


He Paints The Colour Red

by SerenityMaSogni



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Mental Health Issues, No Sex, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Torture, Scars, Violence, intense snowball fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenityMaSogni/pseuds/SerenityMaSogni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hospital I worked at was quiet and serene, and then I got transferred. Gilbert gets transferred to a new hospital filled with..unique people. The most intriguing though is the boy who sleeps with the light on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He Paints the Colour Red

The room was small and dark; I could easily press my hands on either side of the room even though they were short and stubby. I would sit in this room for days on end, lose track of time, the days and nights would blend together in the pitch-blackness of the room, invading my senses and clouding everything I could ever be able to feel.

I had given up screaming so long ago, but sometimes the hysteria takes over and I find myself with a parched throat and broken voice blinking in the darkness with hands shaking in terror. I had no water to soothe the burn that traveled up my throat, and no food to quiet my stomach, which was sinking inward towards my curled spine.

Some days He would let me out, to feed me or…do other things. His visits were sporadic and filled with agony, and the merciless tearing of my soul with every biting lash that made me flinch, scream, and bleed. The room was filled with the smells of blood and burned flesh, the sounds of metal tools hitting shelves and heavy breathing, then more screaming to bounce off the dark walls.

Then I would be back in my room once again, to tend to my broken flesh and bruised limbs, to rake my wet fingers over the wall and let the coolness comfort my skin as I heard the thundering steps retreating up the creaky stairwell.

"Hey dad, what do you keep down here?" Voices, sounds, I had heard them before.

"Nothing son, you can't go down in the basement, remember? Don't ever go down in the basement." They were fractured to my ears, reminiscent and frightening, I knew the sounds were associated with the pain, voices; words.

Sometimes I would hear their conversations at the doorstep above the stairs, when he would leave me out in the open. My room was only part of the basement after all. The rest of the basement was dimly lit; enough to see the stains that darkened the cold cement.

He had favourites, his use of the belt was infrequent but he was a sadistic man who liked to leave marks behind that would paint my skin all kinds of various colors. Blue, purple, green, yellow, red.

So much red.

He paints the colour red.

___________________________________________________________________

One would probably ask why I of all people would want to work at a hospital, and I honestly didn't know myself, but there was something…interesting about seeing the different diseases and stories the patients brought in.

I started out in my teens, awesomely helping out around hospitals doing whatever I could, when I graduated high school I immediately got myself some training and applied to work at the hospital officially. Starting as a nurse.

That didn't go so well. I scared the kids with my odd features, and my patience with the adults didn't last long, and unless you were someone too valuable to lose your lack of a bedside manner got you booted, and mine was virtually nonexistant. Eventually I moved over to the psyche ward, where all I really had to do was give the patients their pills for the day and remind them of their therapy appointments. Sometimes I had to restrain some patients or remove them from each other forcibly, but surprisingly that didn't happen often.

It was nice; I found myself liking it even more than I did while nursing, and actually anticipating work. I got to be with the people that I felt I could actually help, doing things that I could, and would be happy to do.

The hospital I worked at was quiet and serene, my job was interesting, the patients were exemplary, and then I got transferred.

"Hey nubie how ya doin'?" I flinched slightly at the tone of the man's voice as he hopped energetically in front of me. His features were…honestly he looked like a Ken doll, blonde hair, blue eyes, buff, tall, and one small stray cowlick. He would have been a great guy if he didn't, you know talk. The blond burst into a crooked grin and cocked his head, looking me up and down inquisitively. 

"I'm a' show you around today I guess, so that you get all the crap we need to know around this place, so make sure you actually listen when I talk!" The man raised an eyebrow at me and tried to look as if he were strict before launching back into speech. "It shouldn't be too hard cause' I'm like the best teacher ever." He grinned widely at me, and something told me I should smile back and say 'Sure! I best you are an awesome teacher!' but that made me want to gag.

I nodded like my chin were attached to a string pulling up and down figuring saying nothing would probably be the best option out of everything I would like to say.

"Well! I am Alfred F. Jones, nurse extraordinaire, I help with checking the patients, making sure they have everything they need, and all that. We just really try to like, help out as much as we can to make them comfortable and not trigger any freak-outs cause' that wouldn't be very cool right?" He laughed loudly, attracting the attention of some of the other nurses and patients in that area. Most of the others though just ignored it like it was normal.

I restrained a groan.

"Most of our patients are on this floor, separate from everyone else because there are some pretty messed up people around here!" He laughed again at the statement, which made me slightly uncomfortable. Who would laugh about something like that? "But seriously, there are some people you have to watch your words around." He stopped along the corridor, and put a hand on my shoulder, his fingers curled almost claw-like around me and I fought my uncomfortable feeling. 

The man's eyes got slightly cold, which was kind of saying something because his sky blue eyes were almost constantly filled with happiness.

"You were sent here so you must be a pretty good nurse, the people at your old hospital must have thought you could handle this place, but don't get too comfortable."

A small grin was still on his face though his next words were bitter.

"I have seen people leave within a day or so because they couldn't handle the stress that comes with working here; you have to be constantly on your guard and ready to restrain anyone at a moments notice. You can't get attached, it would only hurt you and them because almost everyone here has been or is a threat to themselves and others." The man's hand left my shoulder quickly and he spun back around, leading me once more. I watched him move, at ease through the halls, like nothing had happened as I stood in shock, his warning sinking in. It was dangerous here, not serene, not easy, not peaceful, totally different from the environment I was used to. Thoughts started straying towards the possibilities of what could happen, everything that could go wrong in a situation like this, but I shook them away irritably. I am too awesome to quit this place, people needed me.

"You need to be able to see some pretty messed up stuff and not be affected by it, and you need to grasp that some patients can not be helped." Alfred's eyes drifted into thought as he faced me once again, outisde one of the rooms.

Can not be helped? Isn't that why they were at the hospital in the first place?

"Well let's continue!" He walked down the hallway with the bounce back in his step, directing my attention to different patients and permanent residents.

"In that room is Lovino, he has EAD, like I would seriously stay away from him, man, anything will set him off. He has a twin brother that visits him all the time, it's kind of sad that they have to be separated like this. Apparently Lovino was a danger to everyone else." Oh, I had read about Explosive Anger Disorder before, but I have never actually witnessed it, maybe it would be better to step lightly around 'Lovino.'

"He has a brother? That sucks, I don't know if I would be able to stand it if mine bruder had something like that." And I couldn't. Ludwig was always the responsible one while we were growing up, dealign with the shit I couldn't, and helping when I didn't have anywhere to go. 

The blonde looked a little distracted as he stared at the door to Lovino's room. "Ya, I don't know if I would be able to either." He blinked a few times and turned to me quickly.

"But Feli is really an awesome guy, never lets his brother's condition get him down! And he brings pasta every weekend and that keeps everyone pretty happy." Alfred blinked something away from his mind visibly before shifting moods again and shoving a smile onto his face. "Anyway, let's go!"

We passed a few resident patient's rooms, some faded in my mind where others were hard to ignore, like a man named Antonio with bipolar disorder, and a woman named Elizabeta with obsessive compulsive disorder who I met. Elizabeta had proceeded to pull me aside and tell me about the way she was entered into the hospital, (which I found was actually hilarious) which seemed to make her happy.

Alfred told me she liked to hit people with things, and the occasional frying pan when she could get her hands on one.

I decided that I liked her.

At the end of the day I had met a few patients, not witnessed any accidents, and restrained myself from giving Alfred a concussion.

Somehow I just knew tomorrow was going to be a lot worse.


	2. Chapter 2

Of course I was late on my first day, only awesome people were late on their first day right?

Not awesome.

I was greeted with a relieved Alfred, he actually laughed and patted me on the back when I walked in almost ten minutes late!

"Hey man! I totally thought you bailed on us! Haha, naw you're too cool for that." He didn't pause for breath as he rushed into his next question. "Hey, are you ready to meet some more of the patients? Yesterday was kind of quiet so you didn't get to see a lot, but today should totally be more interesting!"

I trailed after Alfred, this time actually noticing my surroundings like I hadn't yesterday, until we stood in front of the elevator. The entire hospital was devoted to the psychiatric patients, so there were no illnesses or really medical emergencies. There were about four floors in the entire building, on the first level was the check in and waiting area, offices and computers were there also on that level along with the nurse's station.

On the second level were the patient rooms, spread apart with long hallways and identical doors. There were some separate rooms where patients went if they got hurt or sick. This level was also held the therapy rooms.

The third level was the cafeteria where we served breakfast, lunch, and dinner. There was an open area where patients could socialise with each other, play games, watch television, things like that.

Most of the staff would be monitoring this room so that the patients wouldn't start anything or take anything that could be dangerous from that room.

The fourth level, Alfred told me, was for the doctors, nurses, or interns that had to stay overnight for any reason, the rooms were much smaller than the patient's rooms, and packed together.

"They are awful, I stay overnight frequently and now I have back problems! I swear to god the beds are harder than concrete!"

"Do nurses really have to stay over night that often? That only really happened with doctors at my old hospital." Alfred sobered a bit.

"The patients have a better connection with the nurses here, and sometimes some patients will only respond to certain nurses. If something happens and the nurse can't come, and the patient wont have anyone else then it would be a problem."

"What about your family? If you are here most of the time isn't it kind of hard for them?"

"It depends. I personally don't really have anyone to go back to now, but yeah it is hard on some of the others."

Oh no! My poor Luddy wont have the awesome me there to make wurst and tease him about his hair!

Heh, he will probably have a party when he hears about this.

Alfred and I stepped out of the elevator onto the first floor, immediately going to the nurse's station to see what we needed to do. Alfred would be following me around today to make sure I got everywhere alright and didn't fuck up too badly.

"Dude! You are too lucky; you got Elizabeta first! She is a seriously awesome chick, it's really too bad about her condition. I couldn't imagine having obsessive-compulsive disorder, all you need to know about her is to not mention religion, cutting, or her boyfriend.

Well mentioning her boyfriend wont send her into a fit, I just figured you wouldn't want to hear about how amazing he his for a half an hour. Haha! Don't worry dude, I'll be there too."

"Elizabeta, got it, okay." I was freaking out.

Sure I graced the woman with my presence before, but now I had to…what did I have to do again?

"Alfred, what am I doing in her room again?"

"You just need to make sure she ate her breakfast, ask her how she is feeling and shit like that. Give her her pills and remind her of her appointment time. That's all! You have a list on your clipboard so you don't forget." I gripped the clipboard with her information tight in my hands and started towards the elevator to level two.

After stepping from the elevator the walk to her door seemed to take forever, and it seemed like Alfred talked the entire time; I was almost relieved when we finally reached it.

I knocked lightly (loudly) on her door and waited. "Yo Elizabeta you gonna open the door or am I gonna because I really don't want to go in without your permission first you know?"

The door was pulled open widely, and an excited Elizabeta pulled me in by the hand.

"You don't have to do that you know, you can just walk in. Anyway what do you want? Need help with something? Oh! Did you do something?!"

She leaned in excitedly, waiting for the 'thing I had done.'

"I didn't do anything okay? Jeez. Look I just gotta give you your meds ask some questions then leave got it?" I yelped when she dug her fingernails into my hand and pulled away from her.

"You shouldn't talk like that to a lady." She turned up her nose and walked 'daintily' to her bed and sat down.

After quickly muttering a 'lady my ass' which in response to she threw a glare, I handed her the pills and a small cup of water.

She popped them back and threw both cups into the trash can across the room (might I add two perfect baskets.)

"Did you have some awesome breakfast then?" She grimaced.

"I don't know if I would call it 'awesome' but yes I had breakfast. Had to listen to Arthur complain all morning about it too. 'What we need are scones here! This American food is bloody awful. Don't you think so, flying mint bunny? Yes, I do believe we could do with a food adjustment.'" She mimicked in a haughty British accent.

I couldn't help but burst out laughing, and almost jumped when I heard Alfred's laughing behind me. I had forgotten he was there.

"That was awesome Elizabeta, I can't wait to meet this Arthur guy."

"Oh you'll meet him soon enough, he's kind of hard to miss."

Well if that wasn't ominous I don't know what is.

I laughed awkw- awesomely and shot a quick look to Alfred, who actually understood (shocker!) and gracefully excused us.

~.~~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~

"So who is next?"

We had been to see about five different patients now and all seemed pretty normal. There were a lot of fidgety nervous ones, and one guy mumbled so much I could barely make out what he was saying, but overall the morning was pretty awesome.

"Next is Arthur Kirkland, the one Liz was talking about earlier."

"Liz?" He looked at me surprised.

"Ha! Sorry, that's what she has us call her usually. Once she gets to know you better she will probably tell you to call her that."

"Oh."

Yup, that's not disheartening at all.

"Anyway, his room is at the end of the hallway so it will be kind of a walk. If you hear yelling it is probably normal.

Arthur is schizophrenic and slightly eccentric, so really all you need to do is avoid insulting England, don't comment on how he spells things wrong, and watch your step; he doesn't like it when people step on his faery friends."

"His faery friends?" Alfred stopped and winked at me from behind his gold bangs.

"I think you will have to see for your self."

~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~ ~.~

And see I did.

The first thing I saw when entering Arthur's door (he didn't answer when we knocked) was a man with disarranged blond hair and vibrant green eyes laughing his head off while spinning around in his room with arms flung out in the air.

He stopped twirling as soon as he saw us entering and scowled deeply, his green eyes flashing from their previous bliss to un-hidden distaste.

"What do you want?" He sneered and sat down unsteadily on his bed.

"We just needed to see how you were doing, and give you your meds, got it?" I tried hard not to sneer back; it was a hard task when someone jeered at me as this man was.

"Well are you going to get on with it or are you going to stand there like the bloody morons you undoubtedly are." The brit flopped down on the bed looking bored and unhappy.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Alfred smile widely at Arthur who in return scowled even more deeply. I set to giving Kirkland his pills (after briefly questioning Alfred's sanity) and made my way to his bed.

"So why were you spinning earlier?" I asked him, and noticed that his face softened remarkably.

"Princess Penelope asked me to have a spinning contest with her, I was about to win when you two walked in too. She's recovering off in Martin's room now I'm sure, she quite likes it there."

"Who's room?" I tried to remember any Martins in the patients I had met, but none rang a bell.

"What room is he in?" At Arthur's disgruntled and protective expression I took a step back from his bed.

"You aren't going to make her leave are you? I told you she likes it in there and I am sure Mason doesn't mind, don't you dare make her leave you wanker!"

"I thought his name was Martin?"

"Oh I don't know! Just leave Princess Penelope alone!"

"I think we should go now Gilbert, Artie looks tired."

(That's right I'm bloody tired, and don't call me Artie!) "Ya, well you will see the awesome me later Arthur."

As soon as we left I pulled Alfred to the side.

"Should I be worried that Princess Penelope is in that patient's room?"

"In Mattie's room? Naw it's fine, besides Penelope is just inside Artie's head nothings there anyway."

"His name's Mattie?" Alfred froze up suddenly and looked away quickly.

"Ya, dude just stay away from him okay? He isn't a patient to be messed with, so just forget about him."

"What is he in for?"

"Nothing okay!? Just leave it alone." Alfred stalked away with hunched shoulders, tension rolling off him.

"Alfred is Matthew's nurse."

I jumped at the voice and turned to see Arthur with his door open, staring at me with wide eyes.

"Anyone tries to get close to Matthew and Alfred goes bloody ballistic." Arthur paused and looked over his shoulder, his gaze becoming slightly hazy. "So many rumours float around this place about them, honestly, don't believe any of them unless they come from Alfred."

"What about Matthew? Can't you learn anything from him?"

Arthur scoffed. "If you can get him to talk to you sure, but in all my time here I have never seen the lad talk."

"How long have you been here?"

"Almost four years. He was here long before me though."

"Why was he admitted?"

Arthur grimaced and turned to his room.

"Something truly horrific I am sure." He whispered then closed the door.

…..

'Something truly horrific I am sure.' The Englishman's words rang in my head for the rest of the day, and the wary glances I received from Alfred combined, made my head hurt.

The next morning wasn't any better, I had to get up fucking early in order to even be able to stumble out the door fully clothed; extra strength coffee in hand.

Alfred was back to normal, albeit a little tired looking, and greeted me by the door like he had yesterday. I wasn't late this time. Fucking fucktastic.

"Francis Bonnefoy." I mumbled, picking up said person's information and putting it into my clipboard. I tried to ignore the sound my feet made, slapping against the tile of the hospital. It aggravated me to no end.

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME FROG!" I stopped mid-step, staring down the hall at Arthur's door, where the yell came from. Seconds later, the door flew open and a blonde was shoved out unceremoniously.

"Au revoir mon ami! I will see you later!" The blonde man sauntered away from the door, leaving Arthur muttering things about broken locks and insufferable Frenchmen quite loudly.

The man swayed his hips while he walked, throwing flirtatious winks at nurses both male and female that passed by him. He walked past the door next to Arthur's room, and I noticed him glance at the door quickly before looking away to the door before him, which he entered.

I looked at my clipboard and noticed that the man I had been watching had been the exact man I had been looking for: Francis Bonnefoy, in his file it said that he had attachment issues, and when his lover left him he went mad and killed him. Instead of going to prison, he pleaded insanity to the court and was sent here.

"Mr. Bonnefoy?" I knocked politely. I didn't know what kind of person be would be, so despite the gag reflex at being polite I proceeded to hide behind my 'polite mask.'

The door flew open revealing the grinning man. "Why hello there!" He leaned in giving me a full view of his big blue eyes. "What can I do for you?" He said unctuously.

I took a big and very evident step back and showed him my clipboard. "I just need to ask you some questions for my chart. Kay?" He sighed dramatically and stepped into his room, wordlessly inviting me in.

"And here I thought you were a jealous admirer. Isn't mon Angleterre and I's relationship wonderful?"

"Angleterre?"

"England." He explained.

"Well if you call being shoved out the door and being called a frog wonderful then sure, your relationship is freaking awesome."

Francis pouted, jutting out lips that should only appear on girls. "That is his special way of saying I love you." He whimpered.

I scoffed quietly and Francis pouted even more. "Didn't you have questions? Or were you just interested in my love life?"

"Okay, well I'm new here so I just needed to get some information I might need in the future. Awesome?"

"Um… awesome?"

"Alright then, do you take any medication here?" Francis hesitated, before nodding. "Sometimes they give me sedatives when I have panic attacks but no daily things."

"Do you have visitors? If so, on a regular basis or occasionally?"

"Non, though I visit many others." He winked.

"Right… when are your therapy sessions?" Francis rolled his blue eyes up in thought and chewed on his lip. I wondered if this action subconscious or simply an act.

"I have one session on both Tuesday and Thursday, double sessions on Wednesday, and nothing on Monday or Friday. Those are my free days!" He ran a hand through his gold hair and sighed.

"It is hard being requested this much, but it seems my therapist can't get enough of me!"

I finished writing down his appointment times, and tucked my pen into my pocket looking to him again.

"Those are all of my questions! If you ever need someone to talk to or need something just call for me and I will come."

I remembered his secret glance at the door in between his and Arthur's room suddenly, and hesitated to leave.

"Hey, do you know who is in the room next door?" I pointed to the wall that his and the other shared."

Francis immediately became somber and took a long look at the wall I pointed to. "Zat is Matthieu's room; you have to have special permission to go in there. So far the only ones I have known to be able to are the nurse Katyusha, Alfred, and the patient Elizabeta."

I started at the mention of Elizabeta; the situation with the mysterious Matthew seemed to be a severe one. I had figured that he wouldn't come in contact with any of the other patients.

"Does Matthew ever come out?"

"Only very, very rarely. Sometimes at night I hear his door open and Alfred whispering, only a few people who have been here longer have seen him, and zey refuse to talk about it. He is sort of a ghost around here; in the back of everyone's minds but forgotten so easily. Repressed.

It is quite sad really." He finished, leaving me to take in all of the information.

No interaction, only coming out at night, his image must be horrible if people refuse to talk about him. I felt sickly curious. Did anyone else feel like that? Was I the only one?

"I am guessing you don't know why he is here?"

Francis shook his head. "Alfred is ze only one."

What an un-awesome situation, which is probably what he meant by having to stay overnight, and why he was so tired looking today.

"Thanks for telling me! I am sure everything is fine, Alfred is an awesome nurse too."

Francis quirked an eyebrow at my false sounding speech, but I turned away quickly.

"I have to go, I guess I will see you later then?" Without waiting for him to answer I hurried out the door and sighed.

"That was un-awesome." I breathed, and pulled my clipboard to my chest, setting off to put it with the other files I had collected.

'Something truly horrific I am sure.'

~.~.~.~.~~.~.~.~.~~.~.~.~.~~.~.~.~.~~.~.~.~.~~.~.~.~.~~.~.~.~.~~.~.~.~.~~.~.~.~.~~.~.~.~.~

"Dude, have you met Ivan yet?"

I felt a chill run down my spine. Ivan.

I didn't even know how to describe Ivan. I guess, terrifying would work, or very Russian. Ivan acts like a child, always grinning creepily and laughing at random moments. One of the first things he said to me was 'you will become one with Mother Russia da?'

I didn't even know what that meant and I almost pissed myself.

I looked at Alfred's teasing face and shuddered again. "I never want to experience something like that again. Ever."

"I know right? I am just glad you will be visiting him instead of me. I don't think I could stand it another day."

Oh if only somehow I could get away with murder. If only.

"Only awesomeness equal to mine can handle Ivan, don't worry-" I placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly "I am sure you will get there someday."

Alfred stepped away from my hand with a scoff. "Say what you like, I'm still not the one who will be treating Ivan Braginski."

"What about my brother?" A very feminine sounding voice rang out and we both turned to see a woman that almost made me drop into a dead faint. The woman in front of us had the biggest boobs I had ever seen in my life. She was fairly attractive, with short blonde hair and pretty blue eyes.

If you got over the fact that she was Ivan's sister.

"Your what?" I gasped.

She threw me a look, and repeated herself. "My brother; Ivan Braginski."

"What is your name?" I asked, earning another weird look. "Katyusha Braginski, I'm a nurse here."

She is the one Francis mentioned, that was allowed to visit Matthew, I quickly noted.

"How the holy hell are you Ivan's sister!?" I cried out and she smiled for the first time.

"I can't count how many times I get asked that." She chuckled, nothing like the creepy 'kolkolkolkol' of Ivan's. "It is hard to believe I am sure, but yes we are related."

"Is he the reason you are here?" I asked. It seemed like there were a lot of siblings here.

"Well he was part of it, I also like helping people. You would be surprised at the amount of people who enter the medical field because of siblings." She snuck a glance at Alfred, who scowled back when he thought I wasn't looking. I wondered if it was something about Matthew.

"Anyway, I have to go visit a patient. I hope you have a good time here." She smiled and walked away. I briefly wondered how she managed to walk with a straight back, but backed away from the thought quickly.

"Well now you have met Katyusha. She is a nice person, pushy though." His eyes narrowed at the words.

I left him there, lost in his own thoughts with eyes narrowed and fists clenched tightly.


	3. Chapter 3

Following Alfred was one of the most beautiful males I had ever seen; he was sort of like Francis in his features, with long blonde hair. This boy's hair though was mussed and untidy, it fell past his chin in wavy golden strands.

He was incredibly thin, looking as though the softest touch could break him, and he moved as if he were expecting to be broken; it was feeble and hesitant. Matthew, who I assumed this boy must be, was wearing a long sleeved grey shirt that ended just below his hips, he was also wearing long grey sweatpants to match.

Alfred grabbed Matthew's hand and placed it on his own shoulder, then pet his hair softly.

"We are going to the art room okay? We probably wont see any people so it should be alright."

I noticed how much Alfred's voice changed when he was speaking with Matthew, it was still louder than most voices but now instead of naïve brashness in the tone, there was now softness to it, filled with compassion and pity.

I felt bad for Matthew, having to listen to the pitying tone in Alfred's voice. Was he used to it by now?

Matthew was leaning heavily on Alfred who seemed to be holding Matthew quite easily. He picked up the smaller male and set him down carefully against the wall. I didn't hear what he said, but he ran back into Matthew's room and brought out a crutch.

He held it out to Matthew who seemed to take it gratefully and tuck it under his right arm.

"Your welcome." Alfred smiled and caressed Matthew's hair again.

"Do you know what you are going to draw tonight?" Alfred asked as he started walking slowly next to Matthew, who was making his way with the use of his crutch. Matthew's eyes stayed downcast the entire time, and nothing changed but Alfred seemed to know what he was saying somehow because he responded enthusiastically.

"Don't you want to paint something else this time? Some variety would be good for you Mattie." The blonde shook his head slowly and looked up for the first time.

Matthew's eyes were a deep soothing blue, when he looked up they swirled with a beautiful combination of purple and soft cerulean; I was immediately lost in them.

"I don't want you to meet with Nurse Katyusha anymore." Alfred said quietly and I was surprised by Matthew's reaction.

He nodded and looked down; his eyes were hidden beneath his wavy hair. I wondered what was running through his head right now, what emotions would have been visible in his eyes had he not been hiding them.

"Are you getting tired?" Alfred asked, and I jumped. Both he and Matthew were nearing the corner I was hiding behind; any closer and they would be able to see me quite clearly. I quickly drew back from the corner and searched for a point of escape. I spied the door to the stairs and sprinted for it, heading to the art room on the third floor.

I wouldn't be able to know what they were talking about while they were in the elevator, but I hid behind another corner that was close to the elevator hoping I would be close enough to hear Alfred's loud voice.

"Just try to paint something different okay Mattie? I am going to try to get some sleep once we get you settled down are you alright with that?"

I didn't hear anything again, nor did I see him nod or make any signs that he knew Alfred had spoken; he continued to stare at the ground.

"Lets go then."

Alfred gripped Matthew's left elbow lightly, and I could tell that he was being as soft as possible.

I followed them silently down the hallway, occasionally ducking behind objects when I thought they might hear or see me.

Alfred opened the door for Matthew, guiding him into the room without hesitation. I could see them and the room quite clearly through the large window next to the door.

Matthew lowered himself carefully into a chair in front of one of the desks as Alfred busied himself with getting his supplies. He returned to Matthew with a medium sized canvas, a small plastic plate to put the paint on and four colours of paint: blue, green, red, and yellow.

Alfred surveyed his patient, and I could see him checking off a mental list of all the things he needed, once he was finished he walked slowly out the door and down the hallway. He didn't look back to him once.

~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~

Matthew, I decided, was very timid and certainly a puzzle to figure out. Once his Alfred left, his originally ram rod straight back slumped and he put his hands over his face, covering his eyes.

We stayed like this for twenty minutes, me watching him slumped in his seat, and me watching him. Occasionally a tremble would shake through his body that set me on edge, but other than that he stayed perfectly still.

I jumped when Matthew straightened his back, his purple eyes flashed with conflict and he clenched his right hand.

He slowly and gently grabbed the red paint and poured it into the plate, covering the entirety of the base with the red liquid, then placed his right hand into the red paint.

Matthew held his stained hand over the plate, letting it drip for a few moments before placing it firmly to the canvas and pulling back. My stomach dropped.

One. Two. Three. Four. I counted the fingers on the painting then the ones attached to his hand. Four, Matthew only had four fingers.

How could this have happened? How hadn't I noticed it before? The ring finger of his right hand was completely missing, all the way down to the knuckle.

Both Matthew and I grimaced at the image that stood out so obviously on the white canvas, and I wondered what this signified for Matthew.

How had he lost his finger?

Matthew repeated the process over and over, each time making a new incomplete handprint till the entire canvas was covered in obvious hands and hardly any white was visible.

It was gruesome, hard to look at. This was a mental patient's painting, this was a picture of what Matthew captured or felt.

Was this what Alfred was talking about? 'Please try to paint something different?' Did Matthew always paint in the colour so close to the colour of blood?

When Matthew finished, he sat back in his chair and breathed deeply, watching the painting with wide eyes, as if it were haunting him. The look of pain that clashed with the peaceful colour of his eyes made me squirm. I watched his shoulders rise and fall as he breathed, thinking about why I was here and not finishing my profiles.

Never before had I ever felt this close to a patient without knowing anything about them at all, or any person for that matter. Matthew was special, he was broken and that was intriguing, it was also very wrong.

I shook my head at the thought. It wasn't wrong, Getting to know Matthew would be awesome but he was an off limits patient with an over protective nurse.

Who knows what could happen if I went and investigated them, barged into their business and learn about the little blonde?

Movement caught my eye and I pushed myself away from the wall I was leaning on to see. Matthew was half way across the room, using his crutch like a lifeline, the painting in hand. He pulled out a drawer filled to the brim with paintings. Before I could get a good look at them he pushed them down and shoved the painting in with the others with surprising force.

Matthew was stronger than he looked.

I watched him look impatiently at the clock above the door and hobbled slowly to the sink in the back of the room to wash away the red paint. The paint came off thickly because of the many coats Matthew applied, and Matthew grimaced at the site of the red fluid running down the drain.

Matthew limped unsteadily to the door, leaving me time to quickly hide myself before he stepped out. He had some trouble opening the door it seemed, because I thought I might have heard a sigh of frustration, and when he stepped out Matthew's face was slightly red.

The pain in my chest was enough to tell me I felt sorry for him.

Matthew limped forward down the hall, and I followed him all the way back to his room, the only time I lost sight of him was when he entered the elevator. While I was waiting for Matthew to get out of the elevator, I made my way to his room and opened the door only enough that he wouldn't have to use the handle.

I hid behind the previous corner until Matthew came into view, now his fist was clenched tightly and a distorted look of pain in the features of his face. I felt happy when I heard him sigh in relief when he found he could push the door open though the happiness died when he stepped into the room and closed the door.

In the back of my mind I knew I had to do the un-awesome profiles, but I didn't want to! I wanted to speak with Matthew! I wanted to learn about him and ask why he is in so much pain; why he needs a crutch.

"Gilbert?" I jumped and spun around at the sound of another voice. I had been so careful not to let anyone see me so when I saw Katyusha I had a mental freak out.

"What are you doing?"

"Um, I am just you know, awesomely walking down the halls. I uh, wanted to get a feel for this place at night." I looked up at the blaring lights and back to her. "Do they always leave these lights on?"

She nodded, and snuck a glance at Matthew's door. "Do you know Matthew?" I asked, and she looked back to me incredulously, "Do you?!"

"No! No, I just wanted to learn more about him! I just…Francis Bonnefoy told me that you were one of the only ones that could visit him and I was awesomely curious. The tension between you and Alfred only increased that curiosity."

Katyusha sighed and looked back to Matthew's door, the light was still on, but there was no noise coming from within.

"Come with me, I will explain." She led me to an empty room and I sat down in one of the chairs while she sat on a bed.

"I am one of Matthew's only friends, one of the only ones he can talk to. Other than Liz and I, he doesn't talk to anyone."

"What about Alfred?" Katyusha's eyes hardened.

"Matthew has never confided in Alfred, and he never will. I think he knows."

"Knows what?"

Katyusha raised her eyebrows and stared at me. "Alfred is leaving Matthew behind."

I choked. "What?!"

"I am assuming you have seen them then? Matthew doesn't trust Alfred; he knows something is off with them. Alfred is getting sick of taking care of Matthew but keeps sending mixed messages to Matthew about it. Sometimes he will be the kind caring bro-nurse that watches over him and next he will leave Matthew completely alone."

I remembered the tired look that crossed Matthew's features when he realised his brother would not be coming back for him.

"How could he do that to him? Doesn't he need his help? What about his parents?"

Katyusha's eyes widened and she sucked in a breath. "You can't mention parents around him, you can't.

All I can say is that neither of them are around anymore." Cold hatred seeped into her blue eyes and she bit her lip.

"I need to get back, Alfred wont let me talk to Matthew during the day anymore so we visit at night." She whispered and turned away to the door.

"Katyusha?" She turned.

"Do you think I will be able to meet Matthew?"

A small smile lit up her somber expression and she thought for a minute.

"I think you should try. I really, really think you should."

Then she turned and walked out the door.

~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~.~~

I was sort of confused about what to do; becoming friends with Matthew could have so many negative outcomes. Some of the first things Alfred told me was to not get attached to patients, and that was exactly what I was considering doing.

On the other hand, I am awesome so it couldn't be that bad. I would awesomely improve the guy's life.

Alfred leaving. I guess it is understandable that Alfred would want to live his life the way he wants to without having to take care of Matthew, but wasn't there a way to do it better than just abandoning him?

My eyes pricked and I looked down; abandonment wasn't one of the best topics for my brother and I, considering our what our parents had done.

I shook the thought away, (No I wasn't crying only un-awesome people do that!) and started to walk back to the office where my profiles were waiting, pausing only to note that as I walked past Matthew's door the light was till on, glowing brightly through the small space between the floor and the door.

I wanted to stay and listen to see if I would be able to hear Matthew moving about in his room, to guess what he was thinking and seeing with those captivating violet eyes, but the reminder of the pile of profiles I had to complete had me slinking away.

My heart stayed with the blonde boy behind the door though, I hoped I would be able to see him again.

Alfred had undoubtedly gotten more sleep than I last night, the bags under my eyes in comparison to his flawless complexion was proof enough. It made me sick though, to know that the reason he had gotten so much sleep was because he left Matthew all alone to fend for himself in the middle of the night.

"You look like shit man! Haha, seriously when did you go home last night?"

"Like, one in the morning; I'm so un-awesomely tired." Alfred shook his head in empathy and cracked a wry smile.

"Guess who you get first today Gilbert!" He called in a singsong tone then shoved a clipboard in my hands.

"Have fun~!" He smiled and sauntered away, leaving me to groan at whom I needed to visit.

Ivan Braginski.

"Ivan?" I set down the two cups, one filled with water, the other with Ivan's pills. "What are you doing?"

The large man looked up from his drawing and smiled creepily. "I am drawing the boy that visits the art room da?"

There on his large white paper, sat a perfect replication of Matthew, hunched over a painting of his own. The drawing was detailed down to the small curl that strayed from the rest of his locks of hair; the missing finger on his hand was emphasised.

"Awesome." I whispered, thinking he couldn't hear me.

"He is beautiful da? Perfect to draw." The Russian looked at the page with appraising eyes.

I once again studied the image drawn, stopping when I reached the bottom where Matthew's feet were.

"You only drew one foot?" I questioned, and his eyes flickered to the empty space where Matthew's foot should be.

"Da." He said quietly. "He doesn't have one."

I looked at him in shock. Doesn't have one? How could I not notice? How did this happen?

"He covers it with the long pants he wears."

"How do you know?"

Ivan thought for a moment, debating on whether or not to tell me.

"I see him every once and a while da? When I first came here I saw him fall when he was leaving the art room. The only time I heard him make any noise, and it was a scream."

I shivered at his tone, though it was tinged with sadness, there was a strange nostalgic edge to it also.

"He cried out and clutched at his leg, that's when I noticed it." Ivan then scowled and clenched his hands into tight, dangerous fists.

"Alfred just walked away."

"No. If his patient were in pain he would help him! I have never seen Alfred be downright cruel!"

"He did." Then Ivan's expression turned gleeful. "It took the boy almost half an hour to get back up, falling down repeatedly. He never spoke, he kept trying till Elizabeta and Katyusha found him." Ivan's eyes widened as he spoke, but his tone never changed.

"Take your pills Ivan." I said quietly, cutting him off mid breath.

Be quiet Ivan. I don't want to hear it. Don't tell me about this boy's pain. I don't want to think about it, please, Matthew, just…leave me alone.

"Da."

I watched him slip the pills into his mouth and swallow them, then drink the water. I registered that I should be weirded out by this style of taking pills but I didn't feel up to it. I didn't really want to feel anything right now.

I winced internally at the sound of that. I didn't want to feel? That sounded so bad, so wrong, but I knew exactly why I thought it.

If I felt right now I would probably race into Matthew's room and make him tell me his past, make him tell me his troubles and hold him till he is okay again. Because I wanted to, oh boy did I want to. My arms itched at the thought of even holding the frail looking boy, but I needed to restrain myself.

Frail boys could easily break.

I turned away from Ivan quickly, hoping he couldn't tell the affect his words had on me.

He could be lying. The man was in here for a reason, he could be making it up just to mess with me.

The picture though, that could only be produced if Ivan had spent a lot of time looking at the boy.

I wanted it to be a lie.

"Have a good rest of the day Ivan." He only grunted in response.


	4. Chapter 4

I spent the rest of the day fighting with myself; trying to differentiate what was the wrong and right thing to do; also what would hurt the boy Matthew.

What did Katyusha do? Has she done anything to talk to Matthew? I was passing by his door again when down the hall a little ways I saw Elizabeta running towards me with a wild look in her expressive eyes.

As she got closer I noticed that she was paying close attention to her hands, holding them in a way that they wouldn't jostle or hit anything.

She ran past me without a care, and banged on Matthew's door.

"Mattie! Mattie!" Her voice held hysteria and I could clearly hear the fear in it.

"Elizabeta?" I asked, but she didn't hear me; continuing to bang repeatedly on Matthew's door.

She almost fell though when the door suddenly opened, a disheveled Matthew finally made an appearance. I couldn't help but internally coo at the adorable sight of a sleepy Matthew, and neither of them noticed me as they began their conversation.

Matthew stayed silent, sometimes I could see his lips move but even at my close position I couldn't manage to hear him.

"They hurt but I can't stop, I can't I can't." Elizabeta sobbed and started shaking till Matthew grabbed her wrists and inspected her hands which I now noticed, were rubbed raw and bleeding heavily in places.

"I'm dirty, I'm dirty, I'm dirty." She mumbled over and over, still crying. Matthew pulled her into his room, a concerned expression crossing formerly untroubled face.

Once the door closed I raced up to it and placed my head as close to it as possible, and almost jumped out of my skin when I heard someone thump onto the other side of the door and slide down it.

A few seconds later there was a lighter thump then sliding sound to match.

"What happened?"

I got chills. Matthew's voice was like a whisper, I could barely hear it even though he was only on the other side of the door.

Elizabeta's voice was much louder in comparison.

"I don't- I can't- Matthew." She whined and I could imagine the pained look on her face.

"Your hands?"

"They are dirty, dirty dirty. Im dirty. I have to wash my hands. Roderich!" She shouted.

"What about Roderich?"

"No! I- I don't know." She sobbed. "I don't know."

"I am sorry." The words were simple yet heartfelt. "I am sorry Liz."

"I shouldn't be here Matthew, I didn't mean to hurt him that time, but my hands!"

"You need to stay."

"Why!?" She shouted, and there was a thud on their side of the door.

Matthew's reply was a bit strained, and short just like his others. "Look around."

There was an agonising silence next, that made me strain my ears hopefully.

"What the hell are you doing?"

I was ripped back from the door, to find an extremely angry Alfred gripping the shirt of my scrubs tightly.

"I am awesomely listening to whatever is going on behind that door, would you mind letting go now?"

Alfred's grip tightened and he brought me farther away from the door and closer to him.

"Why?" He growled and shifted his angry gaze to the door.

"I saw Elizabeta walk in there, she was having a melt down. Now let go!" I gripped his wrist and twisted it till he released the shirt, but he wasn't paying any attention. His eyes had narrowed considerably and his mouth twisted into an ugly scowl.

He let go of my shirt and moved past me to the door, not even bothering to knock.

He disappeared into the room, leaving me to stand awkwardly outside.

"I told you not to come here! What the hell happened in here!?" He practically shouted.

There was silence next, so I assumed Matthew was speaking to Alfred. After a few seconds Alfred stormed out with a hand guiding Elizabeta by her shoulder forcefully. Her eyes were flashing in angered defiance, though her lack of enthusiasm showed how sad she was, there were tear stains running down her cheeks.

They disappeared down the hallway, leaving Matthew's door open.

The temptation was too great; I walked over to the door and peered in, not expecting to see the scene inside.

The room was furnished unlike normal hospital rooms, with personal items littering the counters and posters on the walls. There was a reoccurring red theme, and both lights were shining brightly; there were thick black curtains covering the window.

Matthew was sitting in one of the corners of the room, one leg stretching out the other missing. He was playing with his wavy hair a small frown on his perfect lips.

"Are you okay?" The words slipped out unbidden and Matthew's head snapped up to look at me. His eyebrows furrowed together and a small amount of fear flashed through his violet eyes.

I took a step into the room and he shifted, trying to hide his leg.

"It's okay, I work with your brother." Matthew's expression darkened slightly and he looked towards the door then back at me.

"What was going on in here?" I asked in the softest voice I could manage.

Matthew shook his head at me then pulled himself up from the floor, leaning his weight on the counter heavily. I could see how it would be hard for him to get back up if he had fallen.

"What was wrong with Elizabeta?"

Matthew's mouth formed words, I could see his lips moving, but I couldn't hear him no matter how hard I tried.

He looked at me expectantly, then when he realised I didn't know what he said he turned away; sitting in the bed.

"Are you alright?"

He pointed to a small puddle of blood on the floor then to the door.

"Elizabeta?" I asked, and he nodded softly. I tried not to notice the way his soft curls moved with the motion, and the beauty of the way he moved.

"My name is Gilbert, just call me if you need anything okay? I will be there for you." Matthew's violet eyes widened at the last words and he blushed deep red, nodding.

"Bye then."

I stepped out of the room and let out a huge breath. Matthew was too cute when his face flooded with the colour red, when he hobbled over to the bed and flopped down nervously, when his violet eyes caught in the blaring lights overhead.

The blood though, what happened to Elizabeta?

I made sure Matthew's door was firmly shut then set ahead down the hall to Elizabeta's room, now noticing that I had passed Alfred on my way there.

"Elizabeta?" I knocked on the door lightly, then stepped inside.

She was sitting submissively on her bed, staring at her hands that were now bandaged heavily along with her wrists.

"What happened?" She looked up and tears flooded into her eyes, she sighed.

"Sometimes my OCD gets really bad and I just…I hurt my boyfriend before, and I wash my hands till they are raw and bleeding." She paused and squeezed her eyes shut, before opening them again and blurting out "I cut myself too."

I carefully made sure that I didn't react outwardly at her statement, and controlled the quick spurt of sadness that wrestled with my heart at her statement. "That's un-awesome." I said, hesitating before asking my next question- "How did your boyfriend react?" She flopped back on the bed, long brown hair flying.

"He was okay with everything but the cutting, he doesn't like blood at all and he tried so hard for me to stop. He was one of the people who admitted me here. After I ended up almost dying from blood loss. Could barely take care of myself because I couldn't touch anything."

I smiled softly at her and sat down; pushing up the sleeves of the scrubs I was wearing.

"Ya, I think I can relate to you there."

I pushed up my sleeves to show her the white lines that crisscrossed from my wrists to my elbows. Her eyes widened at the sight and she ran a bandaged hand over the bumped surface.

"No words?" She murmured, and I shook my head.

"Didn't have anything to say."

She looked back down at my wrists and nodded slowly.

"I wrote words a lot, just wanted for someone to hear me you know?"

Her lips twitched into a grin.

"Roddy almost had a heart attack when he saw them, but you know what he did?" She sniffed and brought her hands to her face.

"He got out a pen and paper and wrote down a response to every thing I had written in my skin. I cried so much that day." She let the tears drip down into her bandages and she sniffed again.

"Matthew helps me so much because he will listen to me. I didn't feel like I could talk to anyone here before, because I though they would judge me…Matthew would never judge another person."

"So he helps you calm down?" I asked, and she smiled at me. "He an amazing person."

She put a hand on my arm again hesitantly and looked at me to see if I was okay with it, when I smiled she started tracing the scars.

"Did you have someone like that? Someone you can just talk to?" A flash of my brother Ludwig popped into my head then quickly faded. Talking to Ludwig was like trying to talk to a boulder.

"My brother and I lost our parents at a very young age, and we had to move in with out grandfather. He rarely ever talked to us so it was practically like living alone." I laughed at the next memories which startled her, and she gave me an odd look.

"I became such the awesome rebel, always getting into trouble with my friends and playing jokes on everyone. I was so happy. I cut at home though, when I just felt alone."

She smiled widely at me and egged me on with her eyes.

"I over did it once and Ludwig found me, we went to the hospital but I didn't stop. Going to the hospital started to be a regular thing. I met someone there who really helped me out and inspired me to become a nurse.

I stopped cutting and started volunteering, I became so awesomely happy helping people; made a lot of friends, found what I wanted to do in life, had a few boyfriends, girl friends, it was nice."

"What the fucking hell?"

Both Elizabeta and I jumped at the sound of the new voice. There stood a small boy with brownish hair and tan skin, almond eyes flashed dangerously and he pushed himself into the room.

"You were supposed to give me my meds an hour ago numb nuts, I am in here for a reason and I won't get better if all you do is talk about your selves and your fucking love lives with other patients!"

"Go away Lovino, I know Gilbert isn't the one who gives you your medication." Elizabeta scoffed. "I hear you screaming like a banshee every day, you would think I would know when Antonio comes to your room."

She said the word seductively, causing the boy to blush a deep red, from fury or embarrassment I couldn't tell.

"Don't make the wrong assumptions fuck-tard, I hate that Tomato Bastard."

"You probably shoudn't-" I started but Elizabeta cut me off.

"Don't worry he talks like that all the time-he cant help it." She dismissed it with the wave of her hand.

"Anyway, what do you want Lovino?"

"What the fuck was all the screaming about before? Sounded like you were fucking dying or something."

"Ah." Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "Alfred was giving me the verbal smack down for talking to Matthew."

Lovino's eyebrows furrowed and he crossed his arms. "Who?"

She sighed and smacked a hand to her forehead. "Matthew! God, it's like he doesn't even exist in this place!"

"Verbal smack down?" I asked, and they both turned to me as if they had forgotten my existence.

"Ya, whenever I visit Matthew Alfred always flips shit and scolds me till his jaw falls off claiming he is 'unstable' and that crap. He isn't by the way, he is just…I don't really know…different, broken."

Broken. There was that word again; always when I think about that boy the word 'broken' comes to mind. I felt sick hearing someone else call him that also.

"What fucked him up?" Lovino asked, leaning against the doorframe nonchalantly.

"Don't know." She sighed, "Alfred is the only one."

"Why?" He asked, and Elizabeta smacked her forehead so hard she winced through the bandages.

"He is his fucking brother MORON!"

"Well how the fucking hell should I know BITCH!?" Lovino shoved away from the door and clasped his hands together tightly, hunching over, his face was red and he was shaking a little.

"Sorry, sorry, just don't yell at me like that okay? I will be fine." He took a deep breath and wiped his forehead.

"I'm getting better." He laughed a little and his fierce eyes shone with hidden delight. "Feli will be so happy."

"Psh, that kid is always happy." They both chuckled, leaving me with the strange image of a happy Lovino. Strange.

"I have to go, if they discover I am out of my room they will probably shit themselves, you are lucky you get so much free reign of this place Liz, you should get out more." He turned towards the door "Bye Demon Bastard!"

"Demon bastard?" I asked, "What kind of un-awesome name is that?"

She shrugged, "he is eccentric."

"What the fuck Alfred?!" We both jumped up and raced to the door where Lovino was standing directly ahead, staring wide eyed at the scene in front of us.

"Holy shit."

Alfred stood stalk still, one hand was clenched tightly at one side, and in the other hand he was holding Matthew's foot, dragging him behind him on the floor. I could see where his leg was missing where the pant leg flopped loosely.

Matthew seemed to be pleading silently with Alfred, his mouth moving quickly yet no sound coming out that I could hear. He was crying heavily, though I couldn't hear the words he was saying I could hear every laboured breath he was taking.

The English man, Arthur was standing next to Alfred, a half pleading – half furious look in his eye.

"Leave him alone! Bloody hell!" He ran a hand through his wild blonde hair and shot a meaningful look towards Elizabeta who raced off down the hallway.

Alfred started to drag Matthew again, oblivious to everything Arthur and Lovino were screaming at him.

We followed closely behind, Lovino tugging unsuccessfully on Alfred arm then running off to his room when the excitement got too much for him to handle. I could see his hands shaking the entire time.

We reached the open area where some patients looked up at the sound of the commotion and gaped. Some nurses and doctors rushed over but Alfred didn't stop. He picked up Matthew and placed him roughly in one of the seats in the middle of the room.

Matthew took one look around himself and seemed to cave into himself, sobbing hard. I noticed his nails were bloody and ruined from scratching into the ground, trying to stop himself whilst he was dragged.

He had his eyes shut tightly and he muttered things to himself between big gasping breaths.

"You are going to stay in here okay?" Alfred's voice was terse and there was a wild look in his eye. "You will talk to these people got it?"

He stomped quickly away and Matthew's eyes popped open, searching frantically for Alfred who was no longer there.

He let out a strangled cry that I could barely hear and grabbed at his head, bringing it into his chest and trembling. His eyes were wide open now, darting around and taking in every detail of his surroundings.

"Matt." Elizabeta brushed through the door, Katyusha right behind her. Elizabeta tried prying his hands away from his face while Katyusha inspected his body, looking for any damage.

I stood there gaping, like all the others in the room, unresponsive to what had just occurred.

"Matthew?!" Elizabeta cried out as Matthew started hyperventilating, he covered his face with is mouth open in a silent scream.

"Fuck this." I strode forward and pulled the women away from the boy, taking him into my arms and walking out the door.

They didn't follow me, and Matthew went limp in my arms; there was a glazed look in his eye that scared me. His face was covered in sweat and tears, there were crescent marks in his forehead where he dug his nails into it.

I placed him in his room, laying him carefully on the bed where he immediately curled into a tight ball, not making another sound.

He was shaking violently and I wondered if he had any medication that he should take.

Wasn't Alfred supposed to be taking care of his brother? I sat down in a chair by the bed, waiting for him to do something.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, hoping he could hear me. "It certainly seems to help Elizabeta."

Silence.

"I am going to turn off the light so you can sleep okay?" I got up from the chair I had sat in and moved towards the light, but Matthew sat up quickly and shook his head rapidly.

His lips moved and I could make out a faint voice.

"Please don't."

"Okay." I sat back down and he looked away.

"You look different." He mumbled and I laughed, startling him.

"I guess you don't see that many Albino people around, we are really uncommon. I look different even in terms of being an albino. I guess I'm just awesome."

"Albino?" He asked, and pulled a small book from the side table on the other side of the bed. Flipping through it a frown appeared on his face.

"What is Albino?"

I snuck a glance at the book and raised an eyebrow at the words written there. They seemed to be just normal words and their definitions.

"An albino is a person or animal or something without pigment in their skin and hair, we usually have pink eyes sometimes freckles. I have a deeper pink colour…pretty much red."

Matthew set to writing in the notebook and kept his gaze strictly away from me.

"Pigment?"

"Colouring…"

"Colouring." He murmured and pulled his long hair in front of his eyes, concentrating on it fiercely.

"What happened back there?" Matthew froze and turned his gaze to the door.

"Alfred wanted me to meet new people-" he paused "I didn't want to."

"Why?" He looked away from me and clenched his hands together. I noted how odd it looked without a finger on one of his hands. He shook his head at me and remained silent.

"Does Alfred do that a lot?"

He lifted his eyes to mine and I felt an odd thrill run through me. I was talking with Matthew. Who knew what I would find out? He was like uncharted territory, unseen by the world and I…me; Gilbert Beilshmidt was going to be the one to unlock those secrets.

"No."

Maybe not now. No I would have to get so much closer to him before I could figure out the story behind Matthew. Looking at the way he wrote down my words I knew that I wouldn't mind in the least.

He closed his eyes and remained still, and I am sure he would have remained unresponsive even if I had asked him any more questions.

….

I stepped out once Matthew had fallen asleep, he seemed to be extremely tense in my presence but eventually he calmed down and drifted off.

"What did you do?"

Katyusha stepped around the corner and leaned against the wall.

"Well?"

I smirked at her, imagining this was Matthew's mother figure.

"I just talked to him for a bit, don't worry." She raised an eyebrow and looked at the door.

"He talked to you?"

"Yes, well…kind of. His responses were short, but he told me why Alfred did something like that."

She grimaced and rested her head against the wall, looking tired.

"It was because he wanted for him to meet new people right?" Taking in my shocked expression, she sighed in recognition.

"To think he would go this far. You know that he is… leaving" She whispered the word. "He wants Matt to be able to depend on other people and puts him in situations like that one just now, then he changes his mind and takes him back; telling everyone to stay away.

Matthew gets overwhelmed by the sudden change and isn't the same for days, even longer, then gets comfortable with only seeing Alfred."

"Then he just throws him back out again." I finished, and she nodded.

"It's a cycle Alfred can't let go of. Sometimes I doubt he will even leave for good."

She pushed away from the wall and walked away, her shoulders slumped and looking despondent.

The ride home was uneventful; I didn't have any work to do at the hospital surprisingly, and I got to see Ludwig again.

He grunted in greeting at my entering the house and asked me how my day was.

"Awesome!" I responded, and my entire body felt heavy. Not awesome.

He probably recognised my mood (he might be a boulder but he is a very perceptive

boulder) but he remained silent, letting me go down to the basement/my bedroom where I flopped ungracefully onto my bed.

"Why does everything have to be so complicated?" I mumbled into my sheets and promptly fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

I dreamt of at least twenty different scenarios that would put Matthew in the hospital, one after the other haunting me with a broken Matthew.

I saw him raped, beaten, sometimes drowned, I even saw Ivan coming after him with a knife, which was certainly not pleasant.

When I woke up my hands were clenched tightly into the covers, and I was breathing heavily.

I got ready for work slowly. It had been a few weeks since I had joined the hospital and I was now used to the early rising times. I had originally thought about how awesome it was going to be to work at one of the best mental hospitals around here, now it seemed like a big headache with a paycheque.

When I walked into the hospital I was greeted by some of the receptionists yet no smiling Alfred; he seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth recently.

"Gilbert" Katyusha nodded in my direction. "You have a new patient to check up on since one of the nurses have recently left." (a common occurrence I noticed) She handed me a thin folder, with the least amount of information I had ever seen a file contain.

"Does this guy even take medication?" I asked, and she shook her head smiling.

"I want you to find out about this one, and Feliks sure does like to tell people about it." She smiled a little mischievously.

I knocked on the plain door three times, and was quite surprised when it was answered by a very feminine voice.

"Like, one sec." It called. Katyusha said he right?

Almost a minute later the door swung open to give me the sight of a –undoubtedly- male patient with medium length blonde hair and green eyes.

"Like…who are you?"

"I am here to check up on how you are doing. Can I come in?" The girly man nodded and allowed me inside, revealing to me a very pink room.

"You're like, new right?" I nodded and he flashed me a grin. "You guys don't really need to do anything with me except like keep me company, which is about all you can do." He snickered and leaned closer to me, looking me over with a quirked eyebrow.

"Damn, someone has been working like totally too hard. Sit down, you probs don't have like another patient for a while right?"

I was astounded by the outgoingness of this patient, the bold words and actions that he made. Almost every new statement had him throwing another hand in the air or a jaunty facial expression. I took a seat in one of the chairs in the corner (not pink thank god) and stared at Feliks while he busied himself with making his bed.

"Like, your totally an albino right? Or are you like seriously Goth and wear red contacts all the time?"

"I'm awesomely albino, thank you very much." I had seen those fake red contacts before and quite frankly they ticked me off.

"So like, who is your patient so far?" He asked and fidgeted with his hair, swinging his feet as he sat on the bed.

"Patient?" I asked, and he raised an eyebrow.

"You know- patient, favourite, pet, like what ever the hell you want to call it. Who is your favourite person in this nut house?"

I was puzzled by the question; obviously I liked Matthew a lot (I carried him through a hospital for Christ's sake) but that was kind of different, and Feliks probably wouldn't even know who Matthew was.

Elizabeta was another option but…she seemed like the annoying sister I never had…

"Elizabeta, she is quite sane; and pretty awesome."

Feliks laughed and tossed the blonde hair he was fiddling with behind his ear.

"Like, almost everyone says that, you don't call he Liz yet?" What the hell? Was I supposed to ask he for permission to call her that or something? When was the time ever going to arise that she would deem me ready to call her a nickname?

"Don't get like too discouraged, you seem like totally cool so it shouldn't take much longer." He said and picked at his nails, which I noticed were painted a florescent pink colour.

"So I take it you like pink?" He laughed and looked around the room.

"Like I guess you could say that yah." He rolled his eyes and kept examining the nails, "who knew it would end up landing me in a place like this?"

"Your love of pink?"

"Being gay, and a transvestite." He said, and I was shocked by his careless admission, also by the ridiculousness of the statement.

"You can't be admitted just for being a gay transvestite, this is a mental hospital for dangerous or seriously sick people."

"Ha! Well it is obvious no one has, like told you yet. My uncle is like one of the board members of this hospital and when he learned about the way I am he sent me here to like 'learn the error of my ways,' and 'get better.' Total bullshit I say, but like, the hospital is kind of under his power and they don't really want to cross him."

"That's seriously fucked up."

"Totally! Everyone here is cool though so I don't really mind. They like don't give a crap about what I do and I am not monitored like the other patients. They don't like, do anything to 'cure' the way I am either! It's like totally awesome!"

"But there are people who need to be here more than you do isn't there? Being gay…it really isn't a sickness." He sighed and shook his long hair.

"Like, I totally know what you are talking about but this is like completely out of my control. I would totally be out there in the real world if I could. Now I like content myself with talking to lame nurses all day."

"Hey I am not lame! I am awesome!"

"Like, sure. Anyways, what I want to do though is learn more about this Matthew person Liz is always like muttering about. Other than like Roderich he is the only other person she talks about. Do you know of him?"

"Yah- I do." I shifted uncomfortably. Now that I was the one being asked this question I suddenly felt a lot more awkward about the situation.

"He is…well he is awesome looking let me start with that. Long blonde hair, weird yet gorgeous eyes, really pale skin. He looks like a doll I swear. He also is missing his leg." Feliks raised his eyebrow and I shrugged.

"I don't know the story behind it."

"I like, heard he has been here for like a really long time." He twirled his hair absently around his finger, and stuck his tongue between his teeth while he thought.

"Like, longer than anyone has worked here."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean like since he was a kid."

I stared at Feliks.

"How long?"

"Who has been employed the longest?" He countered and smiled. "You learn like, a lot when you talk to the right people. If you want to know more about Matthew I would like, talk to the people around him the longest." He hesitated then added "except, like, not Alfred."

I nodded, and we chatted for a while after that. I told him of my being bi also (I had known for a while) and he was ecstatic at the similarity. I couldn't help but compare myself to him though.

How had staying in a mental hospital affected Feliks? How had it affected Matthew?

I shook my head and handed another patient their pills. Worrying about this would only develop another headache in my brain. One that was definitely not needed.

"You look terrible." I jumped and Alfred snickered. "Didn't mean tuh scare ya man. You okay?" I nodded and grimaced. I didn't want to speak with Alfred after seeing what he had done to Matthew.

He grinned widely and ran a hand through his hair.

"I have been so busy around here, I guess I forgot to ask about how you have been holding up. I guess I expected you to leave by now haha!" I forced a grin in return and nodded a little.

"Yah- working here is a bit hard but you know- the people are awesome." Except you of course.

"It gets easier I promise. Had late nights already? I think you are starting to get bags under your eyes!" He laughed at poked under my eye, causing me to jerk back. Alfred froze in place.

I also froze when he turned his gaze to me. It was an entirely instinctual action when I had pulled away so viciously, but all I could think is 'I don't want him touching me.' That scared me.

"Heh, sorry that was un-awesome. I just don't like it when people touch my face." I tried to chuckle nonchalantly. "Just something from when I was a kid."

"Did you have a good childhood?" He asked.

It didn't look like Alfred was really asking me that question, as he was far away, lost in his thoughts. I guessed he didn't have a good childhood. From what I had learned from working around people with siblings here or in another hospital, it was hard to have someone to take care of and worry about when growing up. I wondered what it was like growing up taking care of Matthew.

"Childhood is a hard thing."

Alfred nodded, still in his own world. A smile spread on his face, giving him an insane look.

"I have to go." I said, and he nodded absently, still smiling creepily, and I was immediately reminded of Ivan Braginski. I slipped away, and closed my eyes as soon as I was out of his sight, trying to forget what I had just seen.

I felt a tug on my arm and looked down, to see a pale hand attached to my sleeve. I was shocked at the up close view of the four fingered hand because I knew who it belonged to. The ring finger was missing.

Matthew looked worriedly at me and when he caught my eyes he smiled a little. "Are you okay?" His voice was barely a whisper but I could hear it.

"Ya I'm okay." I said, and Matthew shook his head pulling me into his room, I hadn't even noticed I had stopped in front of.

Matthew's hand brushed against my arm and he jerked his hand away. The place where he touched burned and tingled and I felt a chill go through me as he moved away. Matthew's mouth moved but I couldn't hear him and he moved closer.

"Alfred scares you?"

Yes "No."

"Yes he does." Matthew whispered and clasped his disfigured hands together. "Alfred is a scary person. You have to watch him." He turned away and paced the length of the room.

"Why?" Matthew stopped.

"Alfred…I don't understand him." He said, while lowering his eyes.

"Matthew, neither do I. Why does he do this to you?" Matthew remained silent.

"Why are you here Matthew?" He shook his head and wrapped his arms around himself.

"Just stay." He whispered, and I sat down on his bed. "I am here." I said and he sighed softly.

"Who are you?" He asked and sat on the floor in front of the door. The question was startling and odd, making me raise an eyebrow at him.

His lips twitched into an awkward smile and his purple eyes shined.

"Who are you as a person?"

"I'm…Awesome." I started and looked expectantly at Matthew. I wanted to make him laugh, usually that statement caused at least a few chuckles. Matthew started back blankly.

"I am a nurse here, I attended medical school, I have a brother Ludwig." I smiled. "You would like him I bet, he is quiet and careful."

Matthew's perfect brow crumpled and he threw me a look of confusion.

"You seem to be a lot like him." I explained, and Matthew leaned back against the door.

"I am an orphan." Matthew started and looked at me sharply. "What happened to…them?" I noticed his hesitation and added it to the list of things I knew about Matthew.

"They died in a car accident when I was very young. I lived pretty much with Ludwig till Medical school."

"You l-l ove them?" A stutter? Why the present tense? He understood that they were dead right?

"Yes." I answered and he nodded.

"What is your favourite colour?" He asked after a pause and I smiled. "Blue." Or was it purple now? It seemed to be everywhere I looked. I admired the radiance of the violet eyes in front of me.

"Maybe purple."

"Why the change?" He asked and I shrugged. "I find purple better than blue now."

"What is your favourite sport?" I smiled. "Football."

"Which kind?" He asked and I was thrown till he explained.

"The kind where you kick the ball or throw the ball." Oh, well I felt dumb now.

"The kind where you throw it." I grinned.

"What is yours?"

"Hockey." He pointed a thin finger at a small black tablet and grinned. "It is fun to watch."

"Never played?" His eyes widened and then looked down at his hands. His lips formed the words 'no' but I couldn't hear them.

"Why not?"

"Do you have pets?" He asked suddenly, and I mentally scolded myself. Why did I ask him personal stuff when I knew he wouldn't answer? I was sure it was uncomfortable and painful for him to remember anything from his past, and I was making it worse. So breakable.

"I have a bird at home, Gilbird." I laughed at the name. "I asked Ludwig to feed him for me when I'm not able to come home."

"I want a polar bear." He suddenly said, and I raised both eyebrows at him.

He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a magazine. He flipped to a page then held it out for me to see.

There was one of the most adorable animals I had ever seen in my life. A baby polar bear stared up at me from the page with big black eyes that contrasted beautifully with the white fur it was covered in.

I could see now why Matthew wanted a polar bear. The thing looked like it just wanted to be cuddled to death.

"That is awesome." I stated and Matthew grinned a little. "Yes. I named him Kumajirou." I threw him a glance and he grinned a bit more.

"It is a combination of all my favourite hockey player's last names."

"Ah."

He folded the magazine back on the table and looked away from me. I admired the way his golden hair waved and curled all the way down to his shoulders. I wished I could touc-

"You should go." He said and I jumped. It would be inappropriate to touch him wouldn't it. It is inappropriate to even be here right now. I had patients to take care of.

"Yes I should." I said, and lifted myself from the bed.

"Thank you for talking with me Matthew." I said and he smiled bigger than I had ever seen.

"Thank you for visiting me…"

"Gilbert." I said and Matthew folded his hands in his lap.

"Gilbert."


	6. Chapter 6

The next day was impossibly slow, horribly slow, slower than a fucking snail slow. I shook my head rigorously and blinked myself awake. I had lost sleep wondering about Matthew, that was for sure, and it was no lie that it was affecting me in a big way.

I had to help restrain at least four patients today, one of which was Ivan (I had to wash my hands thoroughly afterwards, it wasn't a pleasant visit). Also I was watching Alfred more carefully now, I wanted to see what attributes he shared with his brother and how he could possibly have the maniac look I had seen on his face.

yesterday.

They both had blonde hair, though Matthew's hair was a softer; lighter colour that could be appreciated but easily overlooked, while Alfred's was a bolder gold that caught your eye. They both had relatively blue eyes; Alfred's eyes were extremely blue, and also very catching. But while Alfred's were bright and colourful, Matthew's almost purple irises were astonishing. I could waste the day away staring into Matthew's wide eyes.

I hadn't really seen Matthew walk around a lot so I couldn't gauge how tall he was compared to Alfred, though from his small waist and thin shoulders I would probably guess that he would be a bit shorter than Alfred.

I guess the main difference between Matthew and Alfred was the fact that Matthew was much softer than his brother, more feminine and fragile. While Alfred could be considered hot, Matthew would be considered beautiful.

I walked along the hallways aimlessly. I had finished everything I had needed to be done so I could take a break. I found myself along Matthew's hallway.

"Are you sure?" It was a female voice that caught me. It was unfamiliar and rich. I was fairly sure I hadn't heard it before here.

"Yes, it was…surprising to see him do something like that." Was that Alfred? I slipped back behind the wall and listened intently to their conversation.

"You don't sound too happy about it." She commented, and I could almost see the grimace on Alfred's face.

"I am just worried about him."

"Don't lie." She snapped, and I held my breath. Her voice sounded so loathing. "You hate the fact that he has talked to another male. You want to keep him isolated."

Another male? Alfred scoffed and I snuck a peek at the pair. They were standing a little ways off from Matthew's door. Matthew wouldn't be able to hear what they were saying from inside, but they were close enough to make a quick entrance into his room. Alfred had a dark and seething look on his face, his arms were tense and crossed firmly across his chest.

The woman standing across from him was standing very similar to him with her arms crossed around herself. Her jaw was locked and she had a fierce glint in her eye that made you want to hide. Now looking at her face I could place a faint Russian accent. She had blonde hair that trailed down her back with a white bow sticking out the top uncharacteristically.

She was stunningly beautiful yet her features reminded me of a poisonous flower.

"Hero's don't do stuff like that." Alfred stated and she quipped a short laugh.

"You are no hero Alfred Jones. Matthew is making more progress that I thought would be possible and apparently that boy has been teaching him new words! It is helping with him around, and if Matthew can get used to being around guys then I say keep him."

"Stupid bitch." I heard Alfred say loudly and I watched him leave.

The woman sighed and walked to Matthew's room where the door was immediately opened. I saw Matthew throw her an apologetic look before letting his eyes sweep over the hallway. His eyes widened when they met mine and a pretty blush swept across his face. I waved a little and his blush deepened. He pulled lightly on the woman's arm sweeping her into the room, closing the door quickly behind him.

Matthew's reactions made me want to laugh; the adorable blush that crossed his features was one of the cutest things I had ever seen. I pushed myself to turn away from Matthews door, letting my curiosity take over.

"Hey, Katyusha!" She spun around and waited for me to approach raising an eyebrow slowly.

"What?" She asked and I smiled.

"Does Matthew have a teacher?" She grimaced and I laughed. I knew there had to be a family resemblance and her face just confirmed it.

"Matthew's teacher is my sister Natalia." She stopped then held up a hand "And before you ask, I don't know what she is teaching him, she isn't allowed to tell me."

"Does she work at the hospital?" She sighed.

"No, she was hired to teach him."

"By…" I pressed and she threw me a glare.

"Why don't you just ask him yourself? If it is okay for you to know then he should tell you in person."

"What happened to how he talks then?"

"I don't know Gilbert!" She yelled then quieted herself, throwing glances around her.

"I'm not even sure why you want to know all this stuff about him. I can't tell you, unless you have Matthew's trust."

She walked away from me without a glance.

"Damn." I muttered jumped when I felt a hand land on my shoulder.

"Hon hon hon? Looks like Gilbert has gotten himself a crush!" Francis swooned and guided me to his room.

"Tell me about ze lucky Mathieu." He proclaimed and threw himself onto the bed.

I threw a worried look at the thin wall that separated Francis and Matthew and hoped to god that he didn't hear what Francis said.

"What about him caught your eye?" He asked and I plopped gratefully down into the chair near the door.

"I have never considered liking him." I mumbled, and it was true, though his mysterious past and his even more intriguing present almost constantly plagued my thoughts. Even now as I think about it, I was contemplating his features more than I would another person.

Wasn't that normal response for Matthew though? He was angelic in his beauty; anyone would ogle at him given the chance.

"You 'aven't admitted it to yourself yet? Pity." He sighed dramatically. "You can at least tell me about him non? You seemed pretty desperate for information mon ami."

Desperate? This awesomeness was not desperate. "He is really good looking." I started and Francis shot me a 'no shit' look. "He is really mysterious all the time and he hates being asked questions about himself. He asked me a lot of questions though which is interesting." I sighed. "He seems so fragile all the time, and…" Francis raised a brow at my hesitation.

"He doesn't like to be touched."

"Touched by you or touched in general?"

"I don't know." I consented, and rested my head in my hands. "He seemed fine with me carrying him away from Alfred that time, but any little touches he flinched away from. I have seen him touching other people too though."

"People he knows though right? People he relies on? Zat is probably because he trusts them to not hurt 'im, he sounds like a jumpy person."

"He has trouble with words too I guess." I added and Francis's brows crumpled together.

"I cannot place zat with anything I have heard of. If he were suffering from memory loss he would be in a regular hospital non?"

"I have almost no information on why he is here so don't ask me." Francis shrugged.

"You seem to know quite a lot already Gilbert, I wouldn't be surprised if you were able to find out what happened to 'im."

"It will take a hell of a long time that is for sure."

After my little chat with Francis I felt a lot better, I still doubted the inclination that I would have a crush on Matthew, but the notion wasn't entirely improbable. He was right along side Gilbird on the cuteness level, which is a hard feat to accomplish.

Definitely possible then.

I distributed pills around to different patients and waited patiently for the day to end. All in all it was actually a pretty good day for a Friday. I couldn't wait to spend my only free day tomorrow getting as much sleep as I could.

I passed Matthew's room habitually, and was surprised when I heard yelling inside. More specifically Alfred's yelling.

"I don't give a shit if you want to Mattie! It isn't going to happen!"

I almost dove out of the line of view when the door was thrown open and Alfred stalked down the opposite end of the hallway.

I was seriously contemplating how the hell Alfred still had his job, when Matthew's door opened silently then closed again.

Matthew's crutches made a soft scraping noise as they shifted under his weight. I was surprised that he could use them so well, he moved with swift gracefulness. I longed to see him walk normally as I was sure he would move with as even more grace than now.

I followed him to the art room, where he balanced one crutch on the wall next to the art room door and leaned heavily on the other to open the door. He grabbed the crutch and glided into the room. Matthew struggled more when navigating around the cramped art room without Alfred's help, and I had to hold myself back from helping him.

He emerged finally with a bottle of red paint and a plastic plate to use, along with a small canvas.

He spread out the supplies and applied the red paint to the plate in a big pile of red. He carefully flattened his hand into the red paint and spread his fingers, causing the red to completely cover his hand.

He took longer than last time; making sure that the entirety of his mutilated hand was covered thickly. He stared at his hand for a while with a look of utter blankness on his face. He suddenly clenched his hand and shook his head to expel whatever he was thinking about

He opened it again and laid it gently down onto the flat canvas, staining the white of it a deep crimson. I couldn't help but think of the implications this action presented, the way he looked at the redness on his hand with such a face was troubling.

He repeated it many times, and now I knew what Alfred was talking about that first time they were talking, pleading with Matthew to paint something different, as this painting was exactly the same as the one from before. After he finished he wiped his hand off with a washcloth and pulled a small book from the waistband of his pants.

I couldn't help but get a little flustered when Matthew briefly flashed a view of his pale smooth stomach. He wobbled a little and sat down quickly, catching his balance on the chair.

He raised the book close to his face and squinted, trying to make out whatever was written there.

"Pet." He mouthed before repeating the word a few times. "Hockey, Kumajirou, dog, cat, Gilbird, sport, fish, tennis, al-al-albino, pigment." He struggled through the words anyone else would have said perfectly. He continued to rattle off soft words, each of them becoming more complex as he went along. After a while he closed the book and smiled.

"Hello, my name is Matthew Williams. I live in a…hosp-pital. I like hockey and want a pol-polar bear. I will name him Ku-Kum-Kuma-" he sighed in frustration and clenched his fist. "I will name him Kumajirou." He smiled a little and unclenched his hand. "Do you play in-instruments? Who are your friends? Can you describe them? Who lives around me?" Matthew took a deep breath.

"Why are you a nurse Gilbert?"

Alfred guided the young boy who was visibly shaking down the hall of the hospital. The boy's bare feet made slapping noises on the cold white tile. Alfred tried not to think that his brother would soon be losing the leg that now supported him.

He walked a few feet away from his brother, but as close as he could without him flinching away. His brother had his hands wrapped around himself, the nails were bitten off and bloody, the skin surrounding each fingernail had been torn off. One finger was missing on his right hand.

"Matthew?" The boy jumped at his voice and turned to the sound. He didn't understand that that was his name now; he was only reacting to Alfred's call.

Alfred led his twelve-year-old brother into the small bathroom of the hospital, where Matthew immediately started breathing heavily. Little Matthew's eyes darted around the room, searching for a way out; his hands twitched.

Alfred had been watching his brother's reaction carefully and pointed to the large mirror in front of them, catching Matthew's attention before the panic could settle in further.

Matthew stumbled back, lurching away from the mirror with mouth agape. He pointed from Alfred to the mirror to Alfred and uttered a quiet

"You!"

"No." Matthew flinched.

"You." Alfred said in a soft tone, and walked up to touch the mirror's surface.

Matthew surveyed Alfred touching the mirror warily before creeping forward; he was confused; it didn't make sense.

"This is you Matthew." Alfred said and smiled when Matthew lifted his hand to play with his incredibly long blonde hair, watching each movement intently from the mirror.

"Matthew?" Alfred reached out to touch his brother but Matthew threw himself away from the contact, breathing erratically again.

"No." Matthew whispered and clenched his hands repeatedly, open close open close.

"Matthew-" He took a step towards him, reaching out his hand.

"No!" His voice rose a pitch higher and he moved away. "No. No. No." He brought his hands up to his face and stared at the gap where he was missing his finger and the red that had stained his skin.

"Alfred." He keened, and suddenly the door burst open drawing a startled scream from Matthew. Three men and a woman ran into the small room, immediately surrounding Matthew and Alfred. The two men grabbed Matthew by each arm, though their grips were soft Matthew screamed in terror.

"NO! NO! NO!" He screamed the word over and over, trying desperately to get away from the hands; his eyes were feral and scared, traveling around and around the room, sometimes resting on Alfred but shifting immediately away.

The woman had moved to Alfred, murmuring comforting words to the twelve year old that watched his brother with a calm expression.

The men carried Matthew out forcibly, as he struggled against their strong arms till they made him go limp with a sedative. He screamed and cried for his brother, though he didn't know who Alfred was.

All Matthew knew was that Alfred was the one who saved him from the dark, and that Alfred also had crimson hands.


	7. Chapter 7

"What were you like as a kid?" Elizabeta ran her hand down the raised scars on my forearm.

"I was deluded, really kind of stupid. God the stuff I did, the things I said…I always feel repulsed whenever I remember my younger self." I stared down at my hands in disgust. The things I did with these hands, the fights I started…

When she didn't say anything I sighed and continued.

"I was arrogant, ignorant to others, egotistical and a total asshole. I thought it was fun to make other people uncomfortable and made a habit of picking on the ones that were weaker than me. A lot of them were in the same situation as me and I just made things even more terrible for them.

When I found out I liked guys too it got even worse. I started cutting myself more because of my self disgust and I didn't accept it for such a long time."

"What caused you to accept it?" She asked and stopped her hand to look up at me, I looked up to meet her eyes and she resumed her stroking.

"I was going to the hospital on a regular basis, whether it was because of blood loss or I simply got in a fight. This old nurse, his name was Fritz. Crabby old man I'll tell you that." I laughed, remembering the strange nurse.

"He would always tell me 'one more time Beilschmidt, if I see you one more time I'm 'a knock some sense into you."' I laughed. "He sat me down every time and asked me to tell him why I did it. It was a couple of months before I actually did talk to him. I told him about everything, even my being bi. You know what he said?"

Elizabeta shook her head and rested her head in her arms, listening intently.

"He said, 'get the fuck over it.'" Elizabeta choked and sputtered into laughter.

"What?" She asked and I smirked.

"He told me to get over it, he showed me how weak I was being and how many years had passed since my parents deaths. It had been such a long time that I was wallowing in self-pity that should have ended so much earlier. I was changed. It took a while, but I started volunteering at the hospital and I stopped cutting. I accepted my sexuality and actually started to love my life and what I was doing."

"What about the kids you bullied?"

I sighed again.

"I didn't really have friends, they avoided me like the plague even after I changed for the better. Ludwig was the only one that put up with me."

"Your brother?"

"Yah."

"What is he like?"

I smirked. "A wall." Elizabeta's eyebrows shot up to her hairline and I laughed. "He has little to no facial expression and hardly talks, he is like a living wall!"

"What is it like living with him?" she asked, and I sighed.

"He should come around here soon. Being the unresponsive block of muscle he is, he is pretty hard to talk to."

"Were you alone a lot as a kid?"

"Yes, especially with my parents gone. It affected Ludwig a lot more than me, but having to take care of him was hard for me to handle."

"Didn't you say you were living with your Grandfather?" She crossed her fingers atop each other and stared at me intently.

"Psh, yes but his appearance was a rarity, we basically lived alone."

Elizabeta grabbed my hand and frowned.

"I am really glad you are here Gilbert, I think you can really help around here." She hesitated "You can help Matthew."

I frowned. Matthew was something special, almost untouchable. What she was insinuating made me worried.

"Help him with what?" I asked, and she gave me a deadpan look.

"Even if I knew, I still wouldn't tell you. Don't you get that feeling though? When you are around him? Don't you just sense that something is wrong? He hasn't been out of that room…"

"He has been out of the room." I corrected her absently, concentrating on the feeling she was describing. Did I get that feeling around Matthew? I would have to pay attention next time I talked to him.

"What? His trips to the art room?" I nodded and she shook her head vigorously.

"That's not what I was talking about. I was saying he hasn't been outside, -like nature- in years. He used to talk to me about his longing to go outside but whenever he asks Alfred he says no."

"Outside?" In years? How could he be deprived of something so normal? Even our most dangerous patients got to go outback where they were fenced in (of course they were watched carefully). What could Matthew have done to not be able to go outside?

"Did he tell you about Kumajirou?" I asked, and she slapped her forehead.

"That is one of the only irrational things Matthew wants, but to want a polar bear! Its just silly."

"He should get a dog when he gets out." I said and she jerked her head up.

"What?" I asked, and she searched my expression.

"You are joking right?" She said, and raised her eyebrows.

"What? No why would I be joking?"

She frowned deeply, causing wrinkles to form on her forehead.

"Matthew isn't getting out."

I felt kind of…numb. After Elizabeta's comment I had left almost immediately, and treated my other patients in a daze.

Matthew wasn't getting out?

I felt a pang in my heart when I remembered the words. Matthew might never get to go outside again, he…Matthew was a prisoner in here.

I clenched my fists, allowing the nails to dig into my palms. Alfred was leaving. Alfred was leaving Matthew behind without anyone to take care of him, and no one knew Matthew like I was sure Alfred did. Did he expect him to live alone here for the rest of his life?

What will happen to him? Another pang hit me in the heart. I wouldn't be able to stay here forever; even if Matthew did let me in I wouldn't be able to deny my growing attraction to him.

Nor could I ignore the curiosity I held for him.

I stopped in front of Matthew's door and knocked hesitantly. I listened to the soft scrapings of Matthew's crutches as he moved across the room and stopped outside the door.

I almost gasped when Matthew opened the door. The light that poured out of the room when the door was opened caught Matthew's hair, making it shine like the rising sun. The simple shimmer it had stunned me, the eerily paleness his skin held seemed less sickly. Matthew looked angelic.

"Hi." He whispered and grabbed his crutches, turning away.

"Hello Matthew." I said, and he smiled a little at me. He sat down on the bed and immediately pulled his notebook from the bedside table. I noticed the small black tablet glowing softly on the side of the bed and took a closer look.

I was surprised to find that Matthew was reading Whinny The Pooh, the text was pristine and clear; some words were highlighted in yellow.

"Whinny The Pooh?" I asked, and he blushed.

"I'm almost done." He said quietly and moved to put the tablet away.

"Who got you that tablet?" I asked, and he froze.

"Mother." He whispered and moved slowly on his crutches to the other side of the room.

"Mother." He said again a little louder.

"Oh." How was I supposed to respond to that? He moved halfway across the room because of a question!

"Do you play any instruments?" He asked and I shrugged.

"Not really, I wished I could play guitar when I was younger because it was cool, but I kind of gave up on that."

"Why?" His voice sounded raspy and he moved his mangled hand to his throat for a second. He quickly hobbled on his crutches to his nightstand and took a drink from the water sitting there. It occurred to me that he probably didn't talk all that much.

I remembered how much he struggled the other night when he was going through his questions and internally complimented his fluency this time. He must have been practicing.

"I had other things to do around that time. Taking care of my brother and such."

"Because you orphan?" I noticed his loss of the word 'are' but didn't comment; Matthew was trying.

"Ya, I had to take care of him most of my life."

"Like Alfred." He whispered, and clenched his hands, a blush rising to his cheeks. Despite how beautiful Matthew looked right then I could help but hate that look of frustration that would sometimes catch him.

"How long has he been taking care of you?"

"Long." He answered, and avoided my eyes. He sat down on the edge of the bed, still far enough away that even if I reached out my arm I couldn't touch him; but still on the bed with me.

I tried not to let myself get affected by that too much.

There was a loud thump on the wall then, causing Matthew to jump about two feet in the air and knock over his crutches. There was a loud (British sounding) curse and the silence, and I picked up Matthew's crutches for him.

I held them out for him to place how he wanted, and he hesitantly reached out to take them. He didn't let me touch any part of his skin, but as he extended his arm his shirtsleeve lifted, showing me a few long silvery scars scattered around his arm.

I looked closer at his hand and found that it too had long scars crisscrossing over it, right up to the place where he was missing his finger.

I wanted to ask, I wanted so badly to because these scars were definitely not self-inflicted. I wanted to know how this could possibly happen to someone as wonderful as Matthew. Had there been a car accident? Did he develop a disease? Did someone do this to him!? I wanted to reject the thought quickly, but the crazed look in Alfred's eye flashed to the front of my mind.

Could it possibly have been Alfred who did this to him?

The thought disturbed me more than it should, and I felt a chill run down my back.

"Thank you." He mumbled and leaned the crutches against the bed again. There were a few mumblings from the other side of the wall then it fell silent again.

"What are they like?" He whispered, and looked at the wall where the noises came from. "Who are they?"

I held back a grimace, hoping Matthew wouldn't be disappointed.

"Francis is French, he…is kind of a flirt."

"Flirt." Matthew whispered, and flipped through his book. A look of discomfort crossed his features and he started rubbing circles into his palm with his finger.

"What does that mean?" He whispered and shifted his gaze away; a blush crept slowly up his face.

"He…finds people…good looking…and is overly nice to them because of it, in hopes of earning their affection." I explained, and Matthew's expression softened and he nodded a little.

"What does he look like?" He asked quietly.

I pulled up a picture of Francis in my mind and was once again struck by the resemblance in hairstyles of Matthew and Francis.

"He has the same style of hair as you, and it is also blonde, but yours is a bit brighter than his." I looked at Matthew's hair as it gleamed in the bright lights.

"He has blue eyes and a bit of a beard on his chin. It's called stubble." Matthew nodded and wrote quickly in the small notebook. I saw another flash of his arm when he shifted to write, and was horrified to find that there were even more scars up the length of the limb.

I wanted again to ask him about the scars, but I knew something would happen. Matthew was just too fragile.

"The other one?" He asked, and lifted his golden head to look at me.

"The other one is Arthur, he is British, and kind of hot tempered. He gets angry very easily."

Matthew stayed silent for a long time, looking down at his hands; at one point he flexed the hand that was missing a ring finger and I was struck with the realisation of what it could possibly signify.

Whoever had done this to him wanted him to never have a connection to anyone…maybe a crazed stalker? I knew it, I just knew, this person was the reason Matthew was in here.

I tried not to get angry, and repressed it, looking at Matthew helped. He was still looking down at his hands; his pale skin glowed in the intense light.

"Why do you keep it so bright in here?" I asked, and Matthew's bright eyes shifted to look up at the glaring light. Usually in patients rooms we only ever used two of the lights situated on the ceiling. All four of Matthew's lights were on; glaring down on us and making me squint slightly.

"I don't like the dark." Matthew whispered, and I watched him trace a scar on his hand.

"What do you do at night?" I asked, but Matthew stayed silent.

"You don't need to tell me it's okay." Matthew nodded and opened his little book again.

"Have you been ice-skating before?" He asked and looked me straight in the eye for the first time. He was being completely serious.

"Yes, I have." I answered, a little unnerved by his attentive gaze.

"What is it like?" He whispered, and leaned a bit closer, as if he was trying to hear my answer as clearly as possible.

I looked at Matthew's beautiful violet/blue eyes and remembered my experiences skating.

"I guess it is a little bit like flying." I said, though as I had never flown before it was a hard comparison to make.

"Like gliding on air. You have to concentrate on your legs a lot to make sure they are in the right position so you don't fall down." I laughed a little at the image of Matthew falling to the ice. It was a hard image to conjure, I could only see him tumbling gracefully, not flopping onto the ice like I had seen others do many times.

"If you get good enough at it you can do all kinds of things, like spins and jumps. It amazes me what people can do." I said, and Matthew's eyes looked dreamy. I could tell just how much he wanted to skate on the cold, hard ice.

He stayed silent for a bit, and I let him imagine longer. I knew he was imagining what it would be like on the ice; it was the look I saw when interns came to the hospital I used to work at. They looked about ready to jump into action then and there.

"I want to do that more than anything in the world." Matthew whispered, and I nodded in agreement. I tried not to think of all the things Matthew would miss out on in life if he were to be kept in this place for the rest of his life, with his leg the way it was, he probably would never be able to skate.

"Have you thought of getting a prosthetic leg?" I asked, and Matthew closed his eyes tight.

"No." He said tersely and traced his scar again.

"Why not?" I pressed and the relief I felt when he opened his eyes to look at me was immense. I felt better when I could see his eyes.

"No need." He said. No need? He walked around didn't he? He went to the art room.

"You walk around don't you? Doesn't it get tiring to have to use the crutches all the time?"

"I have had them for a long time. I am used to them now." He countered and he dropped his head a little.

"I don't need a prosthetic leg."

"Do you want a prosthetic leg?" His head shot up and he stared at me with wide eyes, a new expression on his face: shock.

"That hardly matters." He said in his whispery voice. "I wouldn't ever use it. It would be bad for the others."

"For Alfred?" I asked, and he twitched, "for your mother?" He worked his jaw and stared at me, searching for words to say.

"For both." He finally said, and crossed his hands over his lap.

"You will never be able to skate if you don't get one." Matthew full out flinched, and looked away sharply.

"I know." He said. "I know."

We sat in silence for a little while, taking in each other's company and the silence of the moment. There were no sounds of the other side of the wall, and the only thing that could really be heard was the bustle of the hospital, which was never really all that busy.

"You are different." Matthew said, and I jumped a little.

"You treat me differently than everyone else." He whispered.

"Do you trust me?" I asked. I really wanted an answer, but Matthew's eyes told me the truth before he could say it.

"No." He whispered, and avoided my eyes.

No. No. No. Matthew didn't trust anyone, I knew that, but it still hurt. I wanted to be trusted by someone so special, so pure and beautiful. I rode the bus home, thinking deeply about our conversation.

Now was the first time I had noticed that I could hear Matthew clearly, no matter the distance. I had adjusted to hear him; it was amazing.

I was sure that was what the other's had done in order to talk to him normally. I had been so astonished by the peculiar way of talking, and before I realised it I had fallen right into the secret language. The language of whispers that Matthew spoke.

Was I any closer to Matthew than the others? Did I have any rights to consider myself special to him?

I hated myself because of him sometimes. I questioned every action I made, every question I asked. Who gave me the right to even ask questions? Matthew? He hardly answered them anyway!

The prosthetic leg was also a problem. Matthew was using excuses, he was afraid of Alfred, or his mother, something was holding him back from recovering from whatever had happened to him. What would happen if he did ask for the extension? How the hell would Alfred react to the act of boldness?

Alfred. The bastard. I knew he had to be a part of something. Alfred was one of the key points, a mystery in it's own. Alfred held every dirty little secret, yet he was the one who got to walk around freely every day. While Matthew was locked in his room, with magazines and a tablet to keep him company.

I hated the blue eyed man with such unjustified loathing it was surprising. I hadn't hated anyone this much since I hated the man who killed my parents in a car crash. That was deep, undeniable hatred.

I didn't even know what he did! Again I doubted myself. Who was I to dig deep into their secrets? To drop into Matthew and Alfred's lives and hate without motive. How could I be so shallow? Pouring endless hours into trying to figure out the puzzle that was Alfred and Matthew.

But…Matthew was lonely. I could see it in his every movement. I knew he hated being in that room, I knew he detested being in the hospital and living without a purpose. When was the last time Matthew touched grass? Felt the breeze? Touched snow?

Had he ever even gone into the sun? His shock of pale white skin begged to differ.

I watched the bus pass by different neighbourhoods, yellow streetlights flashed past, giving the street a yellow glow to fend off the darkness the night brought.

Hopefully I wouldn't wake Ludwig when I got home. The bus pulled up to the stop a few blocks away from my house and I stepped off with a few other people. We moved our separate ways and I walked tiredly to Ludwig and my house.

The lights were on, strangely enough, and when I went to unlock the door I was surprised to find it was already unlocked. Very unlike Ludwig.

I opened the door cautiously, peering in first then slowly entering the house. I didn't call out, only crept forward through the kitchen (which was the first room entered when coming in the house) and into the living room.

I opened the door softly and yelped, jumping back from the scene in front of me.

It was Ludwig, sitting on the couch, with Lovino sitting opposite him, kissing him.

"Lovino!?" I screeched and the couple broke apart in a hurry blushing like mad. Lovino jumped up from the couch and ran over a happy smile on his face, while I gawked at the out of character expression.

"Ve! You know mi fratello?!" He cried and clasped his hands together.

"What?" I looked to Ludwig, whose heavy blush had faded slightly, as he stood up next to Lovino.

"Ahem, um, Gilbert this is Feliciano Vargas…my um boyfriend." He cleared his throat awkwardly and his once fading blush was back full flush. I had to forcibly close my gaping mouth.

"I treat your brother at my hospital!" I cried, pointing to now named Feliciano. "How the hell did you two meet?"

"Ve! We met a few months ago when Ludwig came to my restaurant! I made him pasta and…oh! Luddy we should have pasta tonight!" The small, obviously Italian male bounced on his heels staring up at Ludwig (who couldn't seem to dispel that blush) and smiled widely.

At that smile, Ludwig's resolve crumbled and he mumbled an affirmative.

I followed them back to where I had first entered, and it seemed Feliciano had all the things necessary out in a matter of seconds. Ludwig stood next to me, watching the immaculate process the airhead had of making the pasta. Each move he made was precise and practiced. It was kind of hard to believe the bubbly excitable boy from before could have such a serious facial expression.

After a few minutes (it seemed like) the pasta was ready. Ludwig had slipped away without my noticing while I watched Feliciano mix the tomato sauce happily, and set the table for three people.

It was strange seeing that many places set when it had been just the two of them for so long.

Feliciano carried in a steaming bowl of delicious looking pasta, covered by a tomato sauce that looked heavenly.

The Italian settled down in the chair next to Ludwig while I sat across from the couple.

"So…Feliciano. Tell me about yourself."


	8. Chapter 8

I went to sleep with a massive headache; Feliciano's shrill voice still rang in my ears. It is a good thing, I suppose, that Ludwig is a great listener. I couldn't help but notice, that Feliciano had a long curl poking out from the rest of his reddish brown hair. When I asked about it, I was surprised to see Ludwig blush deeply (rather, his current blush darkened) and look at Feliciano.

Feliciano's face stayed happily blank, and he smiled vacantly at me. "Ve, it is just a curl." He said, and bounced in his seat. Ludwig had only blushed a bit deeper.

I popped an Aspirin in my mouth and laid down, running through all the information I had received about Matthew. I knew someone was holding something back, some kind of crucial information that would piece the little mystery of Matthew together. Alfred knew, it was quite obvious the extent of his knowledge of the situation, he probably knew everything.

I flopped an arm over my pounding head and rolled over on the bed, fighting sleep. Who was the missing piece? How could that person be involved?

Sleep overtook me finally, and I pushed the troubling thoughts from my mind. Matthew would be there tomorrow.

…

I walked into work completely and utterly exhausted, though I got a decent amount of sleep. I guess it was just one of those days where you are tired no matter how many cups of coffee you drank.

I waved a belated hello to the receptionists as I made my way to the elevator, beginning the slow ascent. I would try not to interact in any way with Matthew today, not let myself get distracted and think of him, or find myself in front of his door.

I was spending too much time and energy on this patient, it wasn't healthy for myself, and I was sure it wasn't healthy for Matthew to have someone new to worry about in his life.

I poured the different pills into the small translucent cups, checking and double checking to make sure I got the prescriptions right, it was a banal task, but very important, I could only imagine what would happen if the wrong kind of patient got too much medication.

"You look tired." I jumped at Alfred's voice, turning slowly; I let my eyes travel over Alfred, taking in every detail of the male nurse. I ended on his face though, looking for any kind of madness or sadistic humour in the clear blue eyes.

I could never view Alfred as a person who would hurt other people, the purity in his baby face made it hard to even imagine; and I had a wild imagination.

"Ya." I shrugged sluggishly. "I didn't sleep well last night."

"Why?" Alfred looked at me curiously, and I tried not to freeze up. Oh, I was just compiling all the stalker-ish information I have gathered and saving it for future pondering, nothing special.

"My brother brought his boyfriend to meet me last night, we stayed up late." It was true…

Alfred wrinkled his nose in distaste, and his mouth puled into a tight grimace.

"What is it like, living with someone who is gay?" He asked, and I looked at him shocked.

Alfred was homophobic? I tried hard to maintain my unpolluted picture of him, but the knowledge that he would hate a people…it was kind of big.

Just what else on Alfred's character was I wrong about?

"I have no problems with it." I am gay too, asshole, I thought, but stopped myself before I could say it. I wanted to, oh believe me, I wanted to, but something told me in the back of my head, that if I told him that he would never let me near his brother again.

I would never have to opportunity to…to what exactly? I didn't want to know.

"Really?" His eyebrows shot up to his blond locks. "I would have kicked him out the second I knew about it."

How could he look so innocent whilst saying such disgusting things? I clenched my hand to keep it in place; assault on the job wouldn't be good.

"It's his house actually." I forced out, and again his surprised look made me nauseous.

"Why would you want to live with a fag?" He rolled his eyes up to the corners as if he were in thought and frowned a little.

"How do they even support themselves?" I was almost foaming at the mouth, the seething anger I felt was infuriating to keep contained.

"I have to go complete my rounds." Ground out, but he didn't notice my tone. That or he ignored it.

"See ya!" He called and spun away, walking cheerfully down the hallway. Unlike Alfred, I stepped furiously and with force, the tiredness I had had was gone, and replaced by the adrenaline of anger.

I had dealt with homophobic people before, it wasn't really a big thing, but when Alfred appeared so pure and then just switched around to do something so un awesome it gets on my nerves.

I still don't believe Alfred could hurt anyone though, no I really don't believe it. Alfred's homophobia probably had to do with his parents and their opinion on the subject.

"Beilschmidt-san." I spun and raised my eyebrows at the caller, surprised by the strange greeting.

Standing there was a rather small man wearing hospital garments; his rather long hair was pulled into a side ponytail that curled low around his neck.

"I was asked to get you by another one of the patients, he cannot leave his room aru." I was startled by the thick accent of the man, but I had heard a lot of accents since I came here, it wasn't uncommon. The man spun on his heel, assuming I would follow him as he began walking down the long hallway of rooms.

"Who is this patient?" I asked, catching up to him. He didn't acknowledge me though, as he just kept a very straight face with every step.

All of a sudden he pulled to a sharp stop in front of a room I recognised: Ivan Braginski's room.

"He sent you here? How do you know him?" The Asian man's cheeks turned a little pink but he still held his stoic mask in place, he ignored my question again and walked away; leaving me alone in front of Ivan Braginski's door.

I walked up to the door slowly, consistently reminding myself that there was an insane murderer behind the key code locked door. I knocked carefully, and jumped a little when I heard him call for me to come in.

I swiped my card and stepped inside, letting my eyes fall on Ivan who was sitting on his hospital bed.

"You called the awesome me?" I asked, not letting the intimidating stare he had fixated on me get under my skin.

"Da, I wanted to tell you a few things I have recently discovered." The large man, got up from the bed and sat down in one of the two chairs in the corner of the room; gesturing for me to sit in the one across from him.

I hesitated before walking forward, scanning anything and everything for any kind of trick or trap. If Ivan were to pull something funny it was likely I wouldn't be okay in the end.

I stopped in front of the chair and sat down, tensing myself to be ready to leap away at any time.

"I found something very interesting-" Ivan hesitated "and disturbing." Something disturbing to a murderer? I leaned forward in my chair.

"What did you find?" Ivan gaze shifted to door then back to me.

"I found them in the art room, they could only be by Matthew." He trailed off vaguely. "They aren't his usual paintings, and they have been being painted for quite sometime."

I raised my eyebrows, another piece to the ever-growing puzzle of Matthew? I wanted very badly to see them…I guess it wouldn't hurt to break my promise for today; I would go back to being unconcerned about Matthew tomorrow.

"Where did you find them?" I asked, fully interested.

"There is a large crack in the art room closet that is covered by a rather unattractive painting, it filled to the brim with those paintings." He said, and looked at the door again.

"You should go da? Tell me what you think of them when you get the chance." I nodded absently, my mind racing with the possibilities of what Matthew could have been painting.

I pulled away from the chair and walked hurriedly to the door, looking back at Ivan who was smiling absently and looking in no general direction.

I closed the door behind me and waited till I heard the loud click of the lock sliding into place.

The art room? That was where Matthew spent all of his time whenever he was outside of his room, when would he find time to paint without anyone looking though? When Alfred deserted him and it was the middle of the night? That certainly seemed like the most probable answer.

I almost walked into the room before I realised how busy the place was, if I went in now they would all find it suspicious and find the paintings also. I would have to come back later tonight. I sighed. Another late night on the account of my stupid infatuation with Matthew.

Infatuation? No curiosity, the simple uncomplicated spirit of inquiry. I wanted to smack my head against a wall.

I still had other patients to take care of.

Elizabeta had gone on a thirty minute rant about how amazing her boyfriend is because he was visiting her in a few days, I can only imagine how excited she will be when he actually arrives.

I wondered what he looked like, how Elizabeta could be so attracted to him.

By the time I finished with all of my patients it was already dark out, the hospital lights glowed brightly, but not as bright as Matthew's room constantly was.

I made my way to the art room and was glad to find it pleasantly vacant. I stepped in quickly and made my away around the many colour stained tables to the closet in the back of the large room.

I pulled open the door, surprised by the interior. The closet was large, I could stretch out my arms and I still had a few feet before my fingertips would reach the walls on each side. There were lots of drawers with labels and names written across the front in different handwritings, some had names, where some were labeled with art supplies.

I stopped at the one-labeled Matthew W. across the top in messy handwriting. I knew it couldn't be Matthew's, wouldn't his last name be Jones like Alfred's? But I pulled out the drawer anyway.

Ah, another question to the list.

There were stacks upon stacks of handprint paintings, each coloured a vibrant red. This had to be Matthew's, but the name on the front bugged me a lot. Matthew W.

I pushed the drawer back into place and searched the wall for the painting Ivan was talking about.

I finally found it hanging above a drying wrack, a poorly painted sunset presented in the canvas. I pulled the paining down and immediately noticed the space between walls, which was stuffed with paper.

I reached in, as I was sure Matthew and Ivan must have done before, and looked at the first painting.

My knees felt weak as I stared at the first painting. It was of a knife, painted in red, dripping with what I could only assume as blood. Now I knew what he meant by disturbing.

I flipped to the next picture and drew in a breath, it was the knife again, but it was accompanied by a hand; a hand that had all of the fingers on it. Obviously not Matthew's hand. Was that where he got those awful scars from?

The next painting shocked my to the very core, my legs wobbled beneath me and I fell to the floor.

Alfred's face looked up at me from the paper, it was flecked with the red paint, now deemed as blood.

His face was young but very characteristically Alfred's; the look that had crossed the features of his face gave me chills. I had never seen a look so distinctly murderous, or insane. Alfred's eyes were lit up in the characteristic way I had seen in other patients, but there was a wicked grin that was accompanied by the wild looking eyes that made him look cruel.

I shivered again from the floor.

All the next paintings were of Alfred, the crazy look in his eyes and the sadistic smile reoccurring again and again. As I flipped backwards though the pile, the paintings got messier and less recognisable, soon there were just pages covered completely by red paint.

I knew these paintings had been accumulating for years, maybe even a decade.

Matthew has been here a very long time.

I gathered the paintings in the order I found them and pushed them carefully back into the wall. I felt sick. I felt disgusting and dirty after looking at such images, I felt so incredibly sick.

Alfred had used that knife hadn't he? He must have used it against Matthew; he must have been the one to cause all of those deep scars and…his leg? My god how the hell did this happen? What was Alfred doing walking around when it should be him in the place of Matthew?

Ugh. I covered my eyes with my hands, immediately grateful that I had grown up with Ludwig by my side. My childhood was awful but Matthew's must have been…horrific.

I walked out of the art room directly to Ivan's room, where I knocked softly.

"You can come in."

I opened the door as softly as I could. Ivan was sitting in the exactly same spot I left him in this morning, though a dark, grave look had replaced his dreamy haze.

"I assume you have seen the paintings da?" He asked, and I nodded numbly.

"What do you think?" He asked, and I crossed the room to sit in the chair I had sat in earlier. I felt rundown and weak.

"I don't know what to think." I said, and Ivan glared at me.

"Then you are not taking this situation seriously enough." His gaze pierced through me.

"Because of this information, we know that every patient Alfred treats in this hospital could be in danger, most importantly Matthew."

I stared at him, the realisation of the situation hitting me like a brick. I could be in danger. Immediately Matthew; a hollow look in his eyes flashed in to my mind. How would Matthew fare?

"Alfred is leaving though." I protested, and Ivan shook his head.

"Even though my sister does know a lot, her facts are not always correct." I didn't question how he knew that it was Katyusha that I got that information from; Ivan seemed to know a lot more than me at the moment.

"He is debating leaving." Ivan continued, and I grimaced. I wished he were already gone.

"I do not know what holds him here other than Matthew, but the whole situation doesn't make very much sense da? The factors don't exactly match up."

"What do you mean?" I asked, and he blinked a little. I assumed it was because he forgot I was there. He probably ran through this many times in his head, much like I did.

Like a puzzle you cannot sleep till you solve. It was almost comforting knowing that someone else was caught in it too.

"If Alfred hated Matthew enough that he would cause him repeated physical harm why would he take him to a hospital where if he did hurt him, it would be noticed immediately? Also, why would he want to stay at that hospital knowing Matthew were there if he wished him harm?"

I wanted to smack my self very hard at not noticing those details. Now that Ivan said it, it seemed very obvious.

"There is also the fact that this is a fairly expensive mental hospital to be sent to. Either you had inner connections, you were extremely rich, or you were sent here by the state."

"But Alfred counts as inner connections right?"

Ivan looked at me dubiously with his cold violet eyes.

"You really believe they would let Matthew come here on the pay of a nurse just because Alfred works here?"

"No I guess not."

I searched my brain for any kind of information that I could provide that would make me a little less incompetent, finally coming up with an image. More specifically: an image of a drawer.

"The drawer that had all of Matthew's painting's was labeled 'Matthew W."

Ivan's pale eyebrows shot up and I could tell he was trying to remember seeing that detail. I gave him few minutes till his eyebrows lowered and his expression fell back into that calm dreamy mask.

"Da I remember that now. Maybe that is where his parent or guardian comes into the picture?"

"Unless W is short for Jones, it has to be a parent."

"Would that suggest Matthew and Alfred are not brothers?" I looked directly in his eyes as he said this, and a spark of understanding seemed to pass between us.

"This just got a whole lot more complicated da?"

….

"You can't be fucking serious!" I threw a pillow across the room, startling Gilbird who let out a shrill peep.

So much of the little information I had gotten about Matthew was utter shit; I could hardly use it with anything.

He was an enigma, completely unattainable. Unattainable? What did I want him now?

I stopped for a second, and Gilbird came to a rest in my hair. Did I want Matthew? I wanted to protect him that's sure, and I can't help but ogle Matthew whenever I see him. I…I really did like him. I liked his pure intentions of life and his quiet mannerisms….

Which is exactly why I shouldn't keep on with this stupid investigation I have ensnared myself in. Matthew probably didn't even have any experience in…

I flopped down on my bed and groaned; I really, really liked Matthew. So much it wasn't fair, it wasn't healthy.

"Bruder?"

I stayed silent, hoping Ludwig would go away. Instead he came closer; I could hear the sound of his clothes rubbing against each other with each step. It sounded loud compared to the silence of the room.

"Bruder why are you crying?" He sounded scared, and he had good reason. I almost never let him see me cry. I hadn't even known I was crying.

When I sat up though, I felt the different drops of liquid cascade down my cheeks. It was slightly embarrassing.

"Just some trouble at work Luddy, nothing to worry about." I mumbled, and he sighed heavily, his blonde brow crumpling.

"You are doing okay ja?"

"Yes I am fine." I tried to talk without any German to Ludwig, as he was less experienced in speaking in English than I was. He didn't seem to be bothered when I didn't speak in our first language, even when he was. He shuffled out of my room quietly; he was probably extremely worried, that or disturbed. Maybe both.

I fell into a restless sleep, though it was greatly appreciated. With so much thinking about Matthew it wasn't a surprise I dreamed about him.

*****Gilbert's Dream******

I ran my hand through golden blonde locks, and let it trail down the skin Matthew's soft face. He sighed in content at my caress and leaned into the touch, drawing a happy intake of breath from me. Matthew liked my touch.

He didn't flinch away to the smallest of movements, he closed his beautiful violet eyes and let a small smile grace his features.

It was more than I could ever ask for; I felt as if everything would fall apart should this moment be broken. My entire existence was balanced on my being with Matthew.

We were in some sort of park surrounded by all kinds of trees and flowers that swayed in the wind with us. Matthew's hair blew along with the wind, it no longer looked pale due to the hospital lights; it glowed in the bright sunlight like spun gold.

I only then realised he was humming a small tune that I couldn't recognise. I could feel every perfection of Matthew's face as I caressed it softly, every angle, every curve was beautiful. I love it.

I loved him.

I leaned back suddenly feeling inadequate to the man in front of me. I was so undeserving of this moment, this love I held. I wanted this so badly, but the park was fading. Matthew's eyes were slowly opening, looking over my shoulder.

The purple eyes widened in fear and the pupils dilated, staring at the thing over my shoulder.

I turned around to-


	9. Chapter 9

I turned around to a burst of cold air freezing me to the bone and taking away my breath.

I sat up in bed, a chill running down my spine, I shivered despite the warm blankets and scanned the room looking for some kind of reassurance.

Gilbird, who had woken when I had jolted from my slumber, fluttered down from his perch to land gracefully on my chest. I could feel the rapid thrumming of his heart through my shirt as the warmth of his body seeped through the material. He peeped softly and fluttered towards my face, coming to rest in the small crook between my shoulder and my neck.

I was immediately calmed by the bird, and smiled at the incredible smarts my bird must have.

Well, he certainly lived up to his namesake.

I pulled myself from my bed and shivered as my feet hit the cold floor, I made my way around my room grabbing my scrubs and throwing them on the bed. I didn't care what time it was, I really didn't, all I knew what that I wanted to do something.

I stepped into the shower and let a few violent tremors shake my body as the hot water contrasted with my chilled body temperature, the tips of my toes and fingers stung as blood seemed to rush back into them.

I spread my thick shampoo over my palm and rubbed it together with my other hand, bubbles seemed to erupt from my hands. I brought my soapy hands to my hair and scrubbed in the foam, making the silvery locks stand up slickly. I rinsed it away and continued with the routine without thinking. A lot of people think in the shower but I am not like that, I simply like to concentrate on the rush of the water as it pounded down onto my head.

The cold air stung against my skin as I stepped from the shower, and I quickly grabbed a towel to wrap around my body. Why was it so cold? I got into the shower hoping to get rid of this damn chill.

I stepped into my room and threw on my clothes as quickly as possible; my cold scrubs were uncomfortable against my skin.

I climbed the stairs up to the main level of the house and stopped. No way. No fucking way! I raced to the window, a huge grin spreading across my face as I looked out over the thick layer of white snow that had covered the ground.

"Luddy!" I called and raced around the house to Ludwig's room, where I found him sitting up in bed with a dazed look on his face.

"Vat?" He said sharply; then looked around. "Vhy is it so cold?" His accent has always been worse in the mornings.

"Luddy." I whispered, and he leaned forward rumpling the covers around him.

"Vat? Gilbert what do you want?" He cleared his throat and shook his head a little, probably just now realising he was letting his thick accent slip through.

"Luddy it's snowing." His head turned sharply to mine and he inspected my expression, which I was sure was filled with pure excitement. The only real thing Ludwig and I had total and complete fun doing together was having an all out epic snowball fight. The fight could go on for hours or last minutes but it was tradition: one ball of cold misery had to be hurtled at top speed every time it snowed where we lived. No matter where we were.

"How long till you need to go to work?" He asked seriously and I glanced at the clock. It read 5:00 am. "We have two hours if I want to get to work on time." I said and the corners of his lips twitched upwards menacingly.

"I suggest you prepare yourself bruder." He said and climbed out of the bed quickly. I spun around and flounced down the stairs of the basement

.

The second I stepped outside I was immediately smacked in the face with a clump of compacted snow. I sputtered wildly before zoning in on Ludwig, who watched with careful composure. I knew he was laughing hysterically inside.

I dove to the side narrowly avoiding another flying ball of ice. It exploded against the side house with full force, telling me just how serious Ludwig was.

Very serious.

My now glove covered hands dropped to the ground, and I immediately started making projectiles to be launched.

Once I had about three and had avoided what must have been five, I threw myself from behind the corner, throwing the three snowballs at where I knew Ludwig to be. I was rewarded with three resounding splats and an infuriated growl and I grinned as I raced around the other corner of the house before he could regain his bearings and retaliate.

I bent low and scooped up a large pile of snow, forming snowballs as quickly as I could. I gave Ludwig three minutes to make his snowballs, which he would undoubtedly come with, so I grabbed my snowballs and climbed up the tree that grew next to the corner of the house. It was doubtful that Ludwig would see me from here, but it was possible he had noticed the awesome ambushing potential before.

I had been scouting this spot for a while now.

Sure enough, Ludwig prowled warily around the corner; his blue eyes roamed the area as he crept with practiced stealth.

I sucked in a breath and dropped the snowballs. I watched them fall, spiralling towards the -for once- messy bright blonde hair below. They dropped directly on his head.

He spun with a growl of confusion then stilled for a second, and looked up. I smiled at the look in his eyes that deceived his embarrassment at being hit so perfectly; and in a fairly obvious place also. I pulled myself down from the tree branch by branch, before dropping down in front of him. He scowled at me and I smirked as he thrust out his hand.

"You win." He grumbled and I slapped our hands together, though his hand curled around mine in an iron grip and pulled me forward, bringing his left hand –which I failed to notice- from behind his back. He smashed my face into the snowball he had been holding then let his hands drop. He grinned at me widely, showing me just how much he enjoyed my failure with the uncharacteristic expression.

My face darkened and I wiped the excess water from my face, my hair was soaking wet.

"I believe that makes me the winner bruder." He pulled back his sleeve and showed me his gleaming watch. "And it is time for you to leave."

.

I grumbled internally as I waited for the bus to arrive at the bus stop in front of the hospital. I hated losing to my brother, especially since it was pretty rare that it would snow here.

I walked straight to the elevator, waving at the women in the front desk in my passing. I wanted to know Matthew's reaction to the snow. I actually wanted to know if he ever opened the black curtains that hung in front of the window in his room.

"What do you think of the snow?" I asked Katyusha and she grimaced slightly.

"Back in Russia it snowed all the time, it isn't exactly a novelty to me. I actually prefer warmth. Though I see that isn't the case with you." She said nodding at my still drying hair.

I smiled sheepishly. "My brother and I have a snowball fight every time it snows." She nodded in approval and took her tray of pills, tucking her clipboard under her arm.

"Have a nice day Gilbert, I hope the snow holds out for you." I smiled back at her and she turned away to the elevator.

I grabbed a few cups of pills from my tray and picked up my clipboard with my teeth, shifting the small cups to a position so I could hold the clipboard in the crook of my arm.

My rounds were routine by now, I moved from patient to patient. For being one of the most out-there mental hospitals, it seemed pretty normal to me now. I didn't really see what made people leave.

Sure, Ivan was pretty creepy and I trusted Alfred less than Ivan (which is saying a lot), but really, everything was like a game now. Though Matthew was still bugging me.

Every time I passed his door on my way to a patient's room I felt an incredible pull to simply enter the room and talk to him for hours. I ached to see his beauty again. By the end of the day I couldn't take it anymore and knocked on the door.

.

Seeing Matthew again was like a breath of fresh air, I could finally breath again but my chest constricted. It was hard to take a breath.

I was reminded of my dream. The way I caressed his face made my fingers twitch in agitation. I wanted to do it again. His golden hair, which looked so beautiful in the sunlight, was now a duller colour. It was disheartening.

"Hello Matthew." I said, and Matthew blushed. He was so easy to blush; it was adorable. Did he do that with everyone though? Did I mean anything to this beautiful boy?

"Gilbert." He whispered, and smiled a little at me. He turned away on his crutches and made his way back into the room, indicating to me that it was okay to follow.

"How are you?" I asked and his purple eyes flashed to look into mine.

"I am fine." He whispered, and played with his hair.

"How are you?" His gaze didn't waver.

"I'm awesome!" I smiled at him widely and looked at the lights above us, they made my eyes hurt.

"Hey, don't you ever turn these off?" He glanced to the lights above us and shook his head, glancing back to me.

"I don't like the dark." He whispered, and I remembered him saying something like that before.

"Why?" I asked, but he ignored me, grabbing at his tablet and fiddling with it.

"Do you ever open the window?" His eyes turned to the window, which were completely covered by dark drapes.

"No." He answered a little louder and clenched his hands.

"Can you please tell me why? I think you would like it." I protested, and he glanced at the window again.

"I…I don't like to be…" he reached over to his bed side table and pulled the word book from a drawer, flipping through it quickly.

"I don't like to be reminded." He finished and looked towards the window again.

"Reminded what?"

"I can't go out." My eyes trailed to the window also, appreciating the fact that I could in fact, go outside.

"There is darkness outside." He trembled a little and closed his eyes, clasping his hands together.

"Darkness." I whispered, and looked at Matthew intently. What exactly did he mean by that? Was there anything past the simple childish fear of the dark? What was Matthew trying to say?

"I don't understand you." I said and Matthew smiled.

"That's okay." He whispered and brought his mangled hand before his face. Scars crisscrossed the pale skin, almost invisible to the light and the small stump where his ring finger should have been was still sickening to see. I didn't want to think about how he could possibly have lost it.

"Not a lot of people understand what is right in front of them." He looked to the window then leaned back onto his pillows a calm expression coming over his face.

"I don't understand snow." He said, reached towards the window, before bringing his hand down again.

"I always wonder what it means, don't you?" The purple eyes were back on me.

"I wonder what everything means in the world. And sometimes…." He trailed off, his eyes going a little distant, a haze of old pain crossing his expression.

"Sometimes I hate it."

"What do you mean?" I breathed and he shook his head, staring at the closed curtain.

"Can you open it?" He whispered and nodded at the window. "I want to see it."

"The snow?" I asked and he stared longingly without responding.

I got up slowly from the bed making my way over to the window, all the possibilities of anything bad happening running through my head.

What if Matthew had sensitivity to the outside? What if he had a freak out and I wouldn't be able to calm him? I would have to call Alfred; then I would have to explain why I was in with Matthew in the first place.

Was this a good idea?

"Are you sure you want me to open this?" I asked hesitantly, and he reached slowly over across the bed, grabbing his crutches and setting them under his arms.

"I need to see it one more time." He whispered and breathed deeply before limping over to me. 'One last time?' That sounded like he was never going to see it again, didn't he have the power to open the shade himself?

I grasped the material of the curtain slowly and I felt Matthew's presence next to me. Was this the closest he had ever been?

I pulled back the thick black curtain; waiting for the bright light to come spilling into the room expectantly, then gawked at what I saw.

The window was painted over with black paint, completely obscuring the outside from view of any kind. I felt sick.

Matthew's hand clenched at his side and in a flash he had gripped the corner of my shirt with the fist, the awkward gap where his ring finger should have been was closer than ever before.

I saw each individual scar on his hands and wrist where the long sleeve shirt was pulled back.

"Matthew." I whispered and the flinched at the sympathetic tone. "I am so sorry."

He shook his head, looking anywhere but at the black window and myself.

"I thought if you were there it wouldn't be dark." He said almost inaudibly, his lips barely moved with each word said and my heart ached.

My mind flashed with all rooms in which he could see through a window, I hardly had a chance if I wanted to get him out of the room without anyone seeing. I would have to use either Francis or Arthur.

My eyes flashed to the wall with Arthur on the other side. Would it be better to take him to Arthur?

I shifted slowly to look at Matthew, who was staring blankly at the tablet on his bedside table; his hand was still clenched tightly on my shirtsleeve.

"Hey Matthew, do you remember Arthur?"

His bright eyes flashed to Arthur's wall and he nodded a quick affirmative. "Yes." He whispered.

"Do you want to meet him?" Matthew closed his pretty eyes and drew his shoulders inwards, the hand clenching my shirt grasped more of the material.

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" He stared up at me, his violet eyes searching for something I couldn't decipher; he broke the eye contact in one swift glance and almost dragged me to the door. I bet he could have if he had been stronger and had full use of his legs.

He stared at the door then looked at me hesitantly, waiting for me to reassure him that it was okay.

I smiled at him and opened the door, quickly guiding him out into the hallway where his eyes swept around cautiously. I could only assume he was looking for Alfred.

"This way." I said and started walking towards Arthur's room, which was only a couple steps away. Matthew had to follow after me because of the tight grip he still had on my shirt.

I took a second to think about what that gesture meant. It obviously meant that Matthew was beginning trust me more; he was following me around like a birdie with his mother! That was adorable; I loved to think that he knew he could depend on me. But why though? He had only seen me a few times, why wouldn't he trust others when he was so accepting of me?

I quickly rapped on the door, hearing the cursing on the inside Matthew started backing away, a frightened look crossing through his eyes, but his grip on my shirt wouldn't let him get very far and he wouldn't leave without me.

The door was pulled open by a disgruntled Arthur, whose expression actually softened when he saw me standing in the doorway.

"Thank god." He said "I thought you were the bloody frog."

I cracked a smile and Matthew edged forward, seemingly encouraged by my attitude. He was like a little bird! I would have to hold myself back from calling him birdie in the future.

"What do you want Gilbert?" Had he yet to notice Matthew?

"We were just wondering if we could borrow your room for a second?" I asked and he frowned.

"We?"

"Matthew and I, yes." Arthurs drifted over to Matthew for the first time, and he seemed a little startled by his appearance.

"Bloody hell- you're Matthew?!" Matthew flinched at the tone and Arthur immediately calmed down, the only time I had seen him do so so quickly.

"Sorry lad, what do you need?"

"Window." Matthew whispered and Arthur leaned forward.

"You are going to have to put some words with that, boy, I won't be able to hear you."

"He said window." I said, aggravated that Arthur could be so ignorant, Matthew had definitely said it loud enough.

"Oh, yes I suppose you can use my window. What for might I ask?" His eyes shifted anxiously to Matthew and I, probably inspecting us for anything that could be threatening to him. Matthew shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"There is something wrong with Matthew's window and he wants to see the snow." I said, and Arthur nodded, opening the door wide.

"Right, I hope you don't mind me staying- I just…." His eyes traveled back to his room almost lovingly.

"I was in the middle of a pleasant conversation with Flying Mint bunny that I wouldn't want to miss out on."

I snuck a glance at Matthew and was glad to see that he wasn't affected by Arthur's odd behaviour.

"That will be fine, this shouldn't take too long."

He moved aside to let us in, going to sit on the bed and began talking in a one sided conversation. Matthew watched Arthur very closely; he was tensed and quick to jump. I could tell he was frightened by the mere presence of the man.

"It's okay." I whispered and had to hold myself back from touching him in reassurance. Matthew didn't like to be touched, the simple warmth and occasional brush of a knuckle from his fist on my shirt would have to be enough. Damn.

We walked together to the window and Matthew's eyes began to sparkle in excitement and happiness. He looked a little less pale in the normal light of Arthur's room, but the fact that it was darker seemed to bother him. As soon as we stepped in the room he had begun to glance repeatedly at the lights overhead, as if he were wishing they were brighter.

"Do you want to open it Birdie?" I asked and he turned to me with a puzzled look on his face. I froze, only now realising that I called him Birdie. Damn it, why did my brain have to do this to me?

Matthew turned away again, not waiting for an explanation and he reached out tentatively to the white curtain that hung over the window. I could see the sunlight streaming through the window already. Matthew pulled back the curtain and-

Darkness

BY LORD BYRON (GEORGE GORDON)

"I had a dream, which was not all a dream.

The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars

Did wander darkling in the eternal space,

Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth

Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air-"


	10. Chapter 10

Matthew pulled back the curtain and winced a little at the variation of brightness between the outside and inside. Once his eyes adjusted he gazed down at the ground in amazement. Everything went quiet and Matthew brought his hand up to the glass as his mouth gaped wordlessly at the sight.

Matthew's purple eyes darted around as he tried to take in the scene, and I tried to follow his gaze. It was just the outside of the hospital, the green grass that was usually in front of the entrance was covered in a thick layer of snow, the parking lot was also covered in a fresh sheet of the white ice.

"Gilbert." Matthew whimpered and his fingertips slid down the expanse of the glass. "Gilbert." He said again, his eyes never leaving the world outside.

"What does it feel like?" He whispered and I watched his hand move.

"The cold?"

He shook his blonde head and ran his fingertips across the pane of glass again.

"What does it feel like to be outside?"

I looked down to the ground, pondering his question while he waited in silence for my answer. A faint giggle from Arthur reminded me that he was still there.

It was a rather complicated question, one that I think Matthew wanted for me to see the meaning behind what he is saying: 'what is it like to be outside' what is it like to be free? What is it like to not be confined by these walls every passing hour?

What do I live for? What do I have out there that I don't in here?

What is Matthew missing out on?

"I guess," I started. "I guess it feels like music."

"Music." Matthew whispered and closed his eyes for the first time since he opened the curtains, cutting me off from the beautiful pools of purple.

"I like music." He smiled a little, "it sways and tumbles like clouds on rocks. Is that what life is like Gilbert? Is life the swing of pain and love? Like music in the air and in the sea? Can't you see the music everywhere you go?"

Music. I listened to the sound of bustling people, murmurs of patients and employees, the soft babbling of Arthur as he talked to Flying Mint Bunny.

More importantly, I could hear the sound of chirping birds through the glass, the sound of wind blowing against the side of the hospital, carrying leaves into it's bitter currents. I could hear the cars honking at each other; I could see the smiles of family members coming to visit their kin that resided within the hospital. I could hear the sobs of both the patients and their family members.

Was this the music Matthew spoke of? Was this the music of life, which twisted in every which way, tainted by the coming and going of new events, purified by the bringing of new discoveries?

Yes. Our lives are an orchestra of colour and existence that we as humans failed to hear, we live by our abilities to perceive and adapt when so many amazing things are happening in front of us without our knowing.

Matthew heard this.

"Yes." I said, and Matthew looked into my eyes, happiness sparkling in his own when he saw my recognition.

"I hear the song every day. Don't you hear the singing Matthew?"

He leaned in and pressed his blonde head against the cool windowpane, a look of ease and tranquility crossing his face as he took deep breaths, as if drinking in the air around him.

"I hear the song." He whispered and grabbed my hand with his own, drawing a sharp inhale of breath from myself.

"You have such a good song Gilbert. Don't ever stop." He whispered then walked calmly away towards the door on his crutches, passing a silent Arthur who stared at him without qualms.

My hand felt empty without his within it.

I followed Matthew back to his room, shutting the door behind me after he entered. He turned on me and smiled, bigger than I had ever seen him smile before.

"It liked it." He stated simply and watched my expression carefully.

"I liked the name you called me."

"Birdie?" I asked, surprised by his sudden attitude change. Matthew's eyes sparkled and he nodded enthusiastically, his hands clenched at his sides.

"Birdie." He whispered then spun away, walking at a fast pace on his crutches to the blackened window and drew the curtains to cover the blackness.

"Goodnight Gilbert." Matthew whispered to me and took a few steps towards me, bringing his hand up till it was in front of my face. He used the tips of his fingers, like he had with the window, and trailed them down the length of my face. He used the softest of touches; the only thing alerting me that he was touching me was the slight tingles that pricked my skin and the warmth it brought.

"Don't move." He said then lightly traced the other side of my face with his hand. I almost shivered when the nub of his missing finger trailed delicately across my skin. I had goosebumps up and down my arms.

"Thank you Gilbert." He whispered and retracted his hand. I remained speechless till he hobbled to his bed and laid down on the mattress, indicating he was done with the conversation.

"Do you want me to turn off the light?" I choked out, I could hardly believe what had just occurred, and I heard his breath catch.

"No." He whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. "No." He said again.

"Sweet dreams Matthew."

I went home immediately after my conversation with Matthew, listening in complete silence to the world around me. I am generally not a quiet person, I tend to get annoyed when people don't know of my presence, but the importance of listening to this song Matthew and I shared was huge.

For the first time, I feel that Matthew and I had shared something together.

I kept seeing Matthew's hand trailing mesmerisingly down the windowpane, the melting snow making slowly descending tear drops cascade down the glass.

I still felt his touch along my face, the places he touched were on fire but the thought gave me a thrill that would run through my veins like fire and ice.

"Matthew." I whispered and closed my eyes softly. Why did he have to make this so hard on me?

A tear dripped down onto my cheek from my closed eyes and I wiped it away quickly. I couldn't help but remember the way he looked at the outside world, how much I wanted to take him away from the confines of the hospital and show him how wonderful life is.

"Gilbert."

I looked up at Ludwig who pulled out a chair and sat across from me at our dining table.

"You have to tell me. Are you-" He looked pointedly at my arms and I quickly pulled back the sleeves of my scrubs, baring my uncut arms to Ludwig.

"You know I wouldn't do that again." I said and Ludwig nodded slowly.

"Tell me what is wrong." He pressed, and I sucked in a breath.

"His name is Matthew and he lives in the hospital I work at. In the first couple days I heard vague mentioning's of him, I became really curious. I found out all I could about him, which hardly anything at all, and discovered he was the brother of the guy who showed me around my first day named Alfred." I paused to look at Ludwig and was surprised to find that his light blue eyes were filled with an intense curiosity and interest. He nodded for me to continue and I resisted the urge to raise my eyebrow at him.

It was somewhat rare for Ludwig to be so interested in something that didn't affect him directly.

"On my first day I mentioned you and he said he didn't have any siblings. He was acting weird too, so I figured he was lying. One of the other patients told me he-Matthew- was Alfred's brother.

I dug around more and eventually I met Matthew, and- god Luddy he was amazing. One of the most interesting people you will ever meet. He is completely mysterious and hasn't experienced anything from the outside world."

I laughed and Ludwig looked at me questioningly. "I showed him snow for the first time today. I would have to say it has been the first time he has looked out a window in a really, really long time."

"He doesn't have a window in his room?" Ludwig rumpled and leaned forward across the table. He was truly interested.

"That's the thing- he does but it is painted entirely black, there is no way he can see out of it."

"How did he react when he saw the outside when you showed him? Did he have any reactions that would implicate the need for the world to be obstructed from his view?"

"He acted like it was the first time he had seen the outside in his life. He was completely enraptured by it. It was amazing to witness."

"How long has it been since he has left the hospital?" He asked and I shook my head.

"I don't know. He isn't allowed out like the other patients, when I asked one of the other said he was there longer than all of the staff and patients, and that he was never going to leave."

"Is he agoraphobic?" I hesitated, trying to think about agoraphobia. Would people who are afraid to go outside long to go outside? Would they be okay with looking out windows?

"He wants to go outside, I know that." I responded and Ludwig nodded slowly.

"Why is he affecting you so much?" He looked directly in my eyes and I remembered every single sad moment that had occurred since I met Matthew.

"He is…special. Incredibly so. He has so much pain and loneliness in him. He has never experienced life, and it seems like he will never have the opportunity." I sighed. "It doesn't help that he is one of the only males that he trusts. He makes me feel special. It is an amazing feeling."

"You seem pretty attached to him." Ludwig commented and I winced at his tone. Disapproving. He didn't understand.

"Have you done any research on him?"

I stared at him in shock. As in…looking him up on the Internet? The thought had never even crossed my mind.

I jumped up from my chair and raced to the computer we shared, swiftly minimising any pages open except the search engine.

"Matthew W." I muttered as I typed and clicked enter.

MWM Graphics Matt W. Moore

Matthew W. Milam (D) - New Jersey Legislature

Matthew W. Mungle - Clinton Wayne : W.M. Creations, Inc. www.mattheww /

Matthew W. Finkin - Faculty | College of Law - Illinois www. .edu/faculty/profile/matthewfinkin

I scrolled down the list of names and sites, nothing catching my attention. I remembered Alfred's eccentric greeting when I first met him and typed in the words 'Alfred F Jones, before clicking enter.

A number of different articles popped up in front of me and I clicked the fist one.

'Father of one, Mr. Adam Jones was killed in his home at 8:00 Friday night June 21st , though not many details of the case was revealed to the public. We know he died of a single gunshot to the head with his own gun. There was no forced entry, and his son Alfred Jones was in the room with his father when the shooting occurred. Jones was found in the basement by authorities when his son called the police to the scene.

When neighbors were asked about Jones, they said they saw very little of him. He didn't have a job and sent his son to a private school. Police would not disclose where Jones got the money to support himself and his son, though the mother (unknown) is suspected.

The killer of Adam Jones was never found, and Alfred has been diagnosed with PTSD and has no memory of the occurrence.'

I stared hard at the article, re reading what little information was there. If Alfred's father had been murdered and the article said he only had one child where did Matthew come in?

The entire case sounded weird. Why would they be together in the basement? Why was the mother never found? Where did he get his money?

"Ludwig look at this!" Ludwig made his way from whatever he was doing and read the article over my shoulder. A confused and dark look crossing over his face when he finished.

"This does not look good." He muttered, and looked at me. "This sounds like a lot of hush money was distributed. This implicates that whoever was paying Adam Jones was extremely rich. Most likely the mother. If Matthew was never mentioned then it is possible that…"

He stopped mid sentence and glared at the screen. "There are many secrets about that family. Most likely dangerous secrets. You should not get involved Gilbert."

I laughed at the idea. How many times had I warned myself to not get involved? How many times had I told myself I was in too deep?

"It is too late for that Ludwig. Far too late."

I got up early the next morning, racing to the Matthew before anything else. The nurses at the front desk were just getting ready as I slipped past them, not wanting to attract attention to myself.

I patted my leg anxiously as the elevator brought me up to where Matthew's room was located and I nearly ran to Matthew's door.

I had no idea what I was going to say. I had no idea what I was going to do. I just wanted to see him.

I knocked softly on the door despite my agitated state and opened it when I heard the quiet call for me to enter.

"Gilbert?" Matthew sounded surprised when I stepped in the door. "What are you doing here?" He asked.

"I don't really know." I said, a little breathlessly, and shrugged. "I just wanted to see you." Did that sound stalkerish? Did I sound like a pervert?

My worries were immediately quashed when a bright smile spread onto Matthew's face.

"You didn't have to do that." He said quietly, and my heart swelled.

"I know." I didn't really have a choice anyway. It was more like I needed to see him.

"What are you doing?" I asked and Matthew looked down at the magazine he was holding, flipping to the next page quickly then looking back at me.

"Reading a magazine. The celebrities are funny." I walked over to where he was laying on the bed and looked at the page he was on.

"Matthew that is a deodorant ad. " I said slowly and he looked down at the page, a pretty blush spreading over his cheeks. "Yes, well that is interesting too." He muttered and flipped to the next page.

"Who buys you the magazines?" Matthew turned his purple eyes to me and smiled a little.

"Liz, and sometimes Alfred." His lips quirked into a small smile and I had to catch myself from staring at the pink lips.

"Roderich is coming today." He murmured and his eyes flicked to the door.

"You should avoid Liz for a bit till he leaves. She tends to get…excited."

I raised an eyebrow at him which he caught and laughed a small tinkling laugh. It made me feel warm inside.

"More excited than she already is? I will heed your warning." Matthew's hand flashed to the bed side table where his word book was resting and before I could blink was writing in the small lines with a pencil.

"Heed." He murmured. "That means…" He looked at me questioningly.

"It means pay attention to, consider, I guess." Matthew nodded slowly and wrote the word down in the book.

"Matthew why do you need that?" I asked quietly, and his hand stilled.

"I wasn't able to learn words for a long time. I am still learning with my teacher and with the things my visitors say."

"Who visits you?" I asked, and Matthew's eyes glimmered. "Liz, Katyusha, Feliks, Alfred comes every day." He hesitated before just barely muttering another name, casting his eyes downwards.

"Ivan visits you?" I tried to keep my voice level but the worry seeped through.

"Only sometimes, and its always late at night. He can pick the lock on his door." He hesitated again. "I don't like it when he comes. He looks like Alfred."

He looks like Alfred. I knew what he meant. I just knew it.

Both Ivan and Alfred have the look of a murderer in their eyes.

"It's okay." I murmured and reached slowly across to pat Matthew's hand, making sure to keep eye contact with him the whole time to be sure he was okay with me touching him.

His skin was soft under my touch, but I could feel the upraised scars on the hand.

"I know what you mean. If you don't want him visiting you anymore I am sure I can do something about it." I whispered and Matthew nodded his head.

"He is a lot like Alfred." He whispered. "Watching me- he is always watching me." He whimpered and closed his eyes.

"I don't like to be watched by him, I don't feel safe."

"It's okay Matthew, I will make sure to have his locks doubled and someone watching him. I will talk to Katyusha, she has power in this sort of thing."

Matthew nodded and very, very slowly leaned over and put his head on my shoulder. My eyes widened and I could feel my breath catch in my chest. I knew he must hear my rapid heart beat.

Oh god he was just so close.

"Can I touch your hair?" I breathed and Matthew nodded into my shoulder. I reached a slightly trembling hand up towards his head and touched the feathery soft tresses upon Matthew's head. I watched my pale hand as it caressed the hair and pressed a little so I was caressing Matthew's head too. He sighed in content and nuzzled into my shoulder, bringing a burst of happiness into my already filled chest.

After a few more seconds Matthew's eyes opened and he pulled away, leaving me cold but still extremely happy.

I glanced at the watch on my wrist and noticed to my dismay that I had to leave.

"I have to go now Matthew." His eyes glimmered with emotion I didn't really recognize and he took my hand without hesitation, giving it a squeeze before letting go.

"Goodbye Gilbert." He whispered and I felt his gaze on my back as I left. It felt content, like everything was right in the world.

I was so happy, that I didn't see the shadow that had watched my every move since I exited the door. Nor the evil glint that flashed through the shadow's eyes.

…

"Gilbert."

The voice gave me chills as I turned slowly, looking at Alfred as he started at me. He didn't look malicious; he didn't have the insane gleam like before.

Alfred's hair shone in the light of the hospital, but I just couldn't find it as beautiful as Matthew's was, it seemed like a ruse, a trick to goad me into trusting the man before me.

"What is it Alfred?" I asked and he smiled morosely. He almost looked apologetic. He glanced at Matthews and started walked away, gesturing for me to follow him.

He walked down the long hallway till we reached a section there were no patient's rooms and no one would over hear us. It was still fairly early in the morning so no activity would be occurring for a bit.

To not say I was wary and on edge the entire time we had been walking would be an enormous lie.

"What is it Alfred?" He eyed me with the same somber expression and shrugged dismissively.

"You need to stay away from Matthew." He said simply and I almost balked at him. Ineeded to stay away from Matthew? The irony of that statement was almost comical.

"Does Matthew want me to leave him alone?" I asked and he stared at me blankly.

"What Matthew wants doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter? Isn't he allowed to receive guests? One of the reasons we are here as nurses is to proved comfort and company for the patients while they are staying in this psychiatric hospital. As Matthew's nurse you should care to his every want and need."

Alfred's eyes narrowed and he pressed his lips together in anger. "I give him what he wants." He growled. "I would do anything for Matthew."

"Except let me visit when he wants me to?"

"He is dangerous, it would be better for you and him to just keep away from each other. "

"Why?" I asked, trying not to let my amusement show through. If Alfred thought he was going to keep me from Matthew he had another thing coming.

"He is a murderer Gilbert." Alfred whispered in a vaporous tone. He hissed like a snake. "He killed our Father."

Everything that I was going to say died on my lips. Matthew? A murderer? No it wasn't possible, everything about Matthew screamed innocence. He could barely raise his voice let alone kill his own father!

"You are lying." I whispered and he shook his blonde head.

"A hero doesn't lie." He stated flippantly and I seethed.

"You are no hero." His words scrambled and repeated in my head, murder murder murder. I felt sick.

"You- you have to be lying. Matthew wouldn't hurt anyone." Alfred shook his head furiously.

"He shot him in the head with his own gun, he murdered my father in front of me! He is sick, sick and horrid!" Alfred insisted, his eyes becoming wild. "Everything is his fault Gilbert, you have to stay away from him. He isn't safe, he isn't a human anymore!"

"Enough!" I yelled and Alfred quieted, his blue eyes dimming back to sanity a bit.

"I just- okay." A part of me died a little inside. I felt it crack into pieces and leave me terrifyingly hollow.

I love him.

"I will leave him alone." I hate it. I hate this. I- god I wish I never felt the incredible warmth Matthew brought me. I hated being this cold case of something lost. Of someone lost.

Alfred nodded slowly, evaluating me with his insane eyes. I wanted to make him bleed, I wanted to tear away that façade he wore to convince everyone of his perfection.

Matthew is perfect.

No. Matthew is a murderer. I felt my throat close up and start burning. I wanted to cry.

I spun away from Alfred before he could say anything more and before he could see the tears that blurred my vision. When was the last time I felt emotion like this? Had I ever felt emotion like this?

The pain that had caused me to slash my wrists was nothing; that lonesomeness was nothing compared to the hollowness that was in me now.

"Gilbert?" I looked up at the kind voice and Elizabeta hurried towards me, her hand wrapped around my arm comfortingly.

"What is wrong?" She asked and wiped away the only tear that I had let escape.

"Matthew." I croaked out and her gaze hardened, her eyes flickered back to where I noticed a man with dark hair and glasses was waiting outside her room.

"Come with me." She said; her usually bubbly happy voice lowered to a dark almost threatening tone.

"Come on Roderich." She grabbed his arm as well and pulled the both of us into the room.

"Listen to me now. Roderich, this is Gilbert, the new nurse to work here. He is infatuated with Matthew and has recently found out about Matthew's secret."

"I'm not infatuated with him, I am fascinated by him."

Elizabeta rolled her eyes and looked at Roderich who turned to look intently at me.

"Yes I am sure you are. He is a fascinating person, that does not explain why you felt the need to become so irrationally upset."

"Gilbert, what did Alfred tell you?"

"Matthew murdered his father." I choked out, and Elizabeta sighed. Roderich grabbed Elizabeta's hand and nodded towards my arm.

"Elizabeta told me you cut, I am not sure what possessed you to do something like that, but every person has an untold story. What each person chooses to do with that story is his or her decision. Matthew has never told you his story has he? He has never had the chance to defend his opinion. Do you even listen to Matthew?"

I glared at his accusing tone and leaned back a bit. "I listen to him!" I protested, but it was true. Matthew had never told me anything about himself, never any information that I might be able to connect him to anything.

"I just need for him to trust me enough to tell me the truth!" I said, and Roderich raised an eyebrow.

"And how are you going to accomplish that when running around accusing him of murder? Is your source even reliable?" He remarked patronizingly.

"No. I mumbled. "But he is his brother, he probably wouldn't lie about his own father's death!"

"Gilbert this is Alfred we are talking about." Elizabeta prompted. "I wouldn't trust him for a second."

"He told you, didn't he?" I asked, and she grimaced.

"Yes, he told me to keep me away from Matthew. It was when I was pretty recent to the hospital and I was sensitive. I felt betrayed by Matthew." She caressed Roderich's hand with her thumb, and I watched the notion without really acknowledging it.

"I didn't talk to him for moths, when I finally got back to my senses it was hard to regain his trust. I abandoned him when he needed me. I was one of the only ones to talk to him at that time."

"Who else knows?" I asked, and Elizabeta shook her head. "No one else." She whispered.

Roderich squeezed Elizabeta's hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing it softly before resting it in between them again. I wondered if I could ever share such loving gestures with Matthew. I wanted to. Oh god, I wanted to.

What if Matthew actually was a murderer? It would have been years ago. Would I really care all that much?

Alfred slipped quietly into Matthew's room, his eyes glittering in a way that made Matthew's stomach clench in fear.

"What did you do?" He asked him, and Alfred smiled encouragingly then let the smiled drop to a deep scowl.

"You let him touch you." He growled and walked forward, straightening Matthew's somewhat ruffled hair.

"What did you do to him?" Matthew whimpered and flinched away from Alfred's hands.

"I told him how sick you are." Alfred sneered, his hands clenching in Matthew's golden locks. "I told him what you did." Matthew stayed silent, and looked away from Alfred, trying to hide his face as his eyes filled with tears.

Alfred let Matthew's hair loose and it fell back into a messy heap atop his head.

Alfred leaned in and brushed away a tear that cascaded down Matthew's face, it rippled over the light scars that no one would be able to see without careful inspection.

"You don't need him Mattie. He doesn't deserve you." Alfred whispered, caressing Matthew's face and making Matthew want to cry even harder.

"I love you Matthew." Alfred placed a kiss on his forehead and leaned away smiling down at his brother.

"Don't worry, everything will be fine."

Alfred spun away a hop in his step. He didn't look back as he walked out the door, and didn't see Matthew tremble violently. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms in a desperate attempt to comfort himself as tears dripped down unwarranted by Matthew.

He brought his amputated leg up and hugged it to his chest, the pain was almost unbearable. He didn't want to be left alone again.

In order for the light to shine so brightly the darkness must be present -Francis Bacon


	11. Chapter 11

I avoided walking around Matthew's door as much as I could for the next week, which was -to say the least- excruciating. I wanted to talk to Matthew, to tell him what Alfred said and have him disprove his ugly words. I was scared though; I didn't want to ask Matthew because I didn't know if Matthew wasn't a murderer. I didn't want to believe it for a second but the thought kept popping into my head. Matthew was in the hospital for a reason, what if he had killed someone when he was younger and was condemned to live in the hospital for the rest of his life?

There were too many unfinished ends, too many questions that seemed to be forever unanswered.

Ivan had murdered someone, I am sure in a horrific way, but he got to go outside, he had a window he could look out. Ivan was able to see and visit with people on the outside. Matthew was cut off from all luxuries. Was he really that dangerous?

I walked down the hallway with these thoughts running through my head when I was startled to attention at the call of my name.

"Gilbert!" I spun around, my eyes locking on Matthew's open door. I hadn't even realised I had walked past.

I let my eyes trail onto Matthew, who stood in the hallway, balancing on one crutch. He had a pleading, desperate look in his eyes, his hands were clenched and I could see them shaking from where I was standing. He glanced down the hall in a frightened, caged way and limped forward towards me.

"Birdie?" I whispered, then scolded myself for using the name when referring to him. Familiarity was something I wouldn't need nor use. Matthew swayed to a stop a few feet away from me, the anguished look never leaving his eyes.

"Please. Please don't-" Matthew struggled with the words horribly, his eyes closing so tightly I thought he might hurt himself.

"Don't leave." He whispered, "please, please, don't leave me." He whimpered then looked around again, watching for his brother to come I guessed.

I watched him with wide eyes. It was really one of the most expressive displays I had ever seen him exhibit. He stood trembling before me, never looking so weak and hopeless and I could only watch while my heart broke into a thousand pieces; it physically hurt to see him in such a state.

"I- I'm sorry. Sorry. Sorry." He pleaded then stumbled back to his room, he didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay out in the hallway with me, but he couldn't take the chance. I could see it in his desperate eyes. I am sorry.

He said it with such feeling. Had he ever been this impassioned before?

I strode to the door and pulled it open almost throwing myself inside. Matthew was huddled in a ball on the floor in the corner, looking so incredibly small and jumped when he heard me enter.

"Birdie." I murmured, I didn't know if he could hear me though as he kept his head down.

I walked slowly towards the trembling blonde and crouched down to him, making sure I was not any higher than he was. He didn't need to feel intimidated by me when he had put himself in such a vulnerable situation.

"I am sorry." I said, and his head jerked to look at me. The disbelief was evident in his eyes. I raised my hand and placed it onto his cheek, caressing the soft skin there. He leaned into the touch; his alarmed eyes calmed; then fell closed.

"I wasn't sure about you Matthew. I don't know anything about you." I whispered to him and he frowned slightly.

"You don't want to know." He whispered in response and leaned into my hand more.

"I want to know everything about you Matthew." I murmured and he looked at me with such an intensely inquisitive gaze I almost looked away, but I didn't break eye contact.

Matthew's violet eyes searched mine for some sort of reassurance, any kind of hint that I might be lying. I wasn't, I knew that for a fact.

He turned his head slightly and looked at the black tablet that lay on the nightstand then back to me.

I took the hint and took the tablet from the table, handing it to Matthew who immediately turned on and started fiddling with.

After a few seconds he turned the tablet around to face me, a picture of a woman on the front.

I was startled to see that the woman looked exactly like Matthew, they had the same eye, and hair colour, same facial structure and even the same expressions. Though Matthew's was tainted with constant sadness, fear, and anxiety.

"Is this your mom?" I asked and Matthew nodded slowly.

"She is very famous." He whispered and looked at the tablet without emotion. Famous? Maybe when I was growing up, I hadn't really paid attention to any of the stars and idols in my youth.

Matthew's eyes filled with unexplained tears and he wiped them away viciously before I could react, the sadness that had leaked through was agonising to see.

"Alfred grew up without her around. She wasn't there, he had to live with Grandma." He traced the outline of her face on the screen.

"What happened to your father?" I asked as carefully as I could, wincing when Matthew tensed up considerably, fear ran through his eyes and into his posture.

He wrung his hands nervously and touched the stub of his finger.

"His is gone." He replied and pulled up his long shirtsleeve. I felt my mouth fall open as Matthew revealed the skin of his arm, the scars that traced every surface, crossing over each other in a mindless web. I had never seen so much damage done to anyone's skin before, it was sickening to see where skin puckered and stretched abnormally because of the scars.

"I made mom go away. I am dangerous and can't go. I made dad mad at me, and Alfie stopped him." Matthew's voice went child-like and frail and he touched his skin tentatively.

"What did he do Matthew?" I whispered and he looked me in the eye directly.

"He kept me in the dark and made me hurt every day. I didn't get to leave till we came here, Alfie saved me, but not before-" He looked down at his amputated leg.

"Doctors said it was in-fec-ted and I would die if it stayed. They took my leg and I stayed here. I wasn't allowed to leave. Alfie said I killed Daddy." I stared at him in shock.

Matthew had most likely stayed in that house his entire childhood, never leaving the house, never experiencing anything but the torture his father brought.

Alfred had saved him, and I was pretty sure I knew how. It was Alfred that had shot their father, to save Matthew from dying.

He would have died.

I shuddered. He would have never experienced any kind of contact with people; he would have rotted away without making any kind of mark on the world.

"Matthew." I whispered, and he dropped his head on my shoulder, his fingers gripped my scrubs desperately.

"I was so alone. I wanted out and Alfred saved me but it never leaves, I try to help but he is hurting too. Mommy won't come visit him anymore and Grandma died a while ago. He is alone too, and he is getting worse. I am scared Gilbert." He whispered quickly and I felt wet tears drip onto my shirt.

He was crying, oh god he was crying. My heart ached for him.

"Its okay." I cooed, trying hard to make my voice sound as comforting as possible. "I will be here, I will always be here." I promised and he cried harder, his breaths came in strangled gasps.

I kissed his forehead and the top of his head, holding him as close to me as possible as he shook vulnerably.

"It will be okay."

I felt horrible for leaving Matthew after he had fallen asleep against me; I had lifted him onto his bed and tucked him snugly. He was so small, so weak to the forces pushing against him. I wanted to protect him from everything else as to not push him over the edge.

I left him a note explaining why I had to go and finished all of the work that needed to be completed. I felt worn down from the mental slam learning all of this had caused.

I rode the bus home and was happy to find Ludwig was awake when I stepped in the house.

I strode to the computer quickly and typed in the physical characteristics of the woman Matthew had shown me. I scrolled through Google images till a photo of her popped up and I clicked it into full image.

"Ludwig!" I called and he stepped into the room quickly.

"Ja?" He asked, and walked to the computer. His eyebrows raised when he saw the picture and he looked at me.

"Why are you looking at Cosette Williams?" He rumbled and looked back at the picture.

"You know of her?" I exclaimed, and his brows furrowed.

"She was very popular when we were growing up, concerts everywhere. You can hear her music on the radio. She was a major sex symbol too but her fame died out a little when there were rumours of her cheating on her husband. That was a long time ago."

"Did she have any kids?" I asked and he shook his head.

"No, though there was some speculation when she didn't leave her mansion for almost a year then all of a sudden just came back with a new album in hand. She was a very secretive woman and very clever apparently." He shrugged.

"There was a lot of gossip about her."

I was pretty sure my eyes were wide and disbelieving because Ludwig looked at me dubiously.

"What?"

Take this kiss upon the brow!  
And, in parting from you now,  
Thus much let me avow-  
You are not wrong, who deem  
That my days have been a dream;  
Yet if hope has flown away  
In a night, or in a day,  
In a vision, or in none,  
Is it therefore the less gone?  
All that we see or seem  
Is but a dream within a dream.

I spent the entire night reading about Cosette Williams, becoming more and more horrified by what I found. She did it all, drugs, parties, rehab, jail, prison, alcohol, and one night stands.

She was the image of what every star avoided becoming, and she hadn't been heard from in seven years. She completely dropped off of the grid, no more gossip, no more parties; not even the paparazzi could get a picture of her.

Some rumours were that she had become agoraphobic and wouldn't leave her mansion, but I wondered if that was the truth.

It was obvious what had happened now, Matthew and Alfred's father must have been her lover and when she had Alfred and Matthew she couldn't let it get out. Alfred could live a normal life, he probably looked like their dad, but Matthew would be immediately linked to her because of the stunning similarity between them.

Ugh, it was disgusting even thinking about. Had Alfred been abused too? I tried to think back to when I had seen him without long sleeves on. I was pretty sensitive to scars so I could notice them fairly quickly on someone. I didn't think he had any, but they could be hidden in places that were always covered by clothes.

I dressed quickly for the next day; every second was another spent away from Matthew. I wondered why Matthew was still in the hospital, Cosette was hardly famous any more, she didn't have that much of an image left to destroy if it came out that she had a kid.

Maybe the fact that she kept him hidden away for all of his life would affect her. Maybe there was something I didn't know about. He could be released though, as far as I could tell there was nothing wrong with him that would prohibit him from interacting with the outside world.

Even if Matthew had been placed there by the police when he was younger because of the death of his father, it was over ten years ago, they had no right to keep him there any longer. I wanted so badly to get there and tell him about the things I had learned. I wanted to see his eyes light up like they did when I told him he would be able to see outside. Though I wanted him to experience nature now. I wanted to be there for him with every new thing he experienced.

I grabbed a granola bar and a water bottle as breakfast, I knew it wasn't healthy, but it was fast.

I practically ran to the entrance once I arrived, and carded myself in without greeting the women in the front. As soon as the elevator door dinged open I tore down the hall towards Matthew's room, avoiding the few people that were walking around.

I came to a stop before Matthew's door, and raised a fist to knock before another hand clamped down on my shoulder roughly.

"I don't want you in there." Alfred's growl sounded raw and angry. He tugged harshly on my shoulder, forcing me to look at him. His blue eyes were clouded and his lip was pulled into a vicious snarl.

His hand fisted in my shirt tugging me forward towards him.

"You leave him alone."

"No." His eyes widened then narrowed dangerously, he bared his teeth at me. He pushed me back till I hit the wall, his eyes fogged even further and I could tell he was hardly there.

He made a hideous snarling sound then lunged at me only to be tugged to the ground suddenly. We both looked up in surprise at a pale and trembling Matthew, his vivid eyes were wide with fear. He leaned heavily on one of his crutches, he had on a short sleeved shirt that showed the entire expanse of his pale arms.

Long silvery scars covered them, crisscrossing over each other; hardly any of the porcelain skin was spared. He shuddered when Alfred glared murderously at him and got quickly to his feet.

Alfred didn't say anything yet tensed and looked around, causing me to do the same.

At least six members of the staff was watching with worried and on edge gazes, although most of the eyes were trained on Alfred, who sneered at them and clenched his fists.

"What are you looking at?" His lip curled and he glared at each of the onlookers individually. He whipped back to look at Matthew, who had backed up slowly from the aggressive male.

"Matthew." Alfred groaned, his voice getting higher to a whine. "Mattie." He whispered and hugged himself tightly, like he was holding Matthew, who had flinched at the action.

Tears sprung into Alfred's eyes as he stared unblinkingly at Matthew and he dropped the snarl, though his gaze was still deadly sharp and fogged enough that you couldn't tell what he was going to do.

"Why do you do this to me Mattie?" He whispered then lunged forward and grabbed Matthew's hand tugging it forward harshly and making Matthew sway dangerously on his crutch.

He extended the arm fully and ran a finger down expanse of white skin, Matthew shivered.

"Is it because of this?" He asked and tightened his hold around my Birdie's wrist, like handcuffs, preventing any escape.

Matthew didn't respond, only looked at Alfred with fear and overwhelming sadness. It was like he had seen this before, well, he probably had seen this before.

More people gathered around to see what was going on, mumbled whispers swept over the crowd and the gazes became more and more worried, more frantic. I could tell people were getting ready to restrain Alfred at any moment because we had all seen this before in our patients. Alfred wasn't with us.

"Well?" Alfred screamed, and Matthew shot a look at me that clearly said get away. His purple eyes were so pleading, but I couldn't, he had done this for me, to protect me. He had probably never been seen by this many people before. This was probably so frightening for him.

"I get it." Alfred laughed, and it sounded almost sickeningly normal, but there was a twinge of something off, something not right about the tone of the laugh. It was sardonic, cynical even.

"I get it." He repeated. "You are going to leave me aren't you?" His voice rose in pitch. "You are going to leave me behind with all of this!" He gestured at Matthew then grabbed at his head, letting go of Matthew's arms.

"I didn't want to do it, I didn't want to do it." He whispered. "I wanted to help, I didn't want to do it!" His eyes had widened and his hands shook like Matthew's, his whispers got louder with every word.

"I did it for you!" He screeched at Matthew and fisted his blond hair. "God, there was so much blood, so much blood. It was everywhere, blood and knives and you!" He pointed at Matthew.

"You, you were everywhere, red, red hands, red hands, red hands!" He laughed. "Do you know why he paints the colour red?" He spun to look at the crowd of people.

"Do you know why he paints the colour red?" He looked at his hands that were trembling violently. "Because everyone's hands are red, everyone's." He laughed uncontrollably, tears streaming down his wide eyes and dripping down into his open mouth as he cackled.

"Ugh, ugh, ugh." He dropped to the floor and curled into a ball, the horrible laughing sobs that were ripped from his throat traveled in the hallways eerily as we watched.

Three of the men stepped forward; these were the men who usually transported the most dangerous patients. They gripped Alfred who started thrashing wildly, savage screams emitting from him as they carried him away.

I turned to Matthew who was already looking back at me and he reached out, his shaking hands groping in the air for me.

"Please, please." He whispered and I almost ran to him. He threw himself into my arms, and I ran my fingers through his silky hair, murmuring apologies and comforting things into his ear as he trembled.

"Matthew." Katyusha stepped forward from the crowd, her eyes filled with tears. "I am so sorry." She whispered and placed her hand carefully on his shoulder.

"What is going to happen?" I asked her, and Matthew tensed up, listening.

Katyusha sighed and traced a pattern into Matthew's shirtsleeve. I could tell she was avoiding looking at Matthew's scar covered arms.

"He will be admitted I guess." She hesitated. "Matthew, how long has he been like this?"

He shook his head and gazed mournfully at her. "A long time?" She guessed, and he slowly nodded then his eyes brightened a little in recognition.

He pulled away from me slowly, but kept a hand clenched on my shirt. "Paintings." He whispered and we slowly walked down the hall to the elevator.

"I will explain." She nodded her head to the crowd of patients and employees then turned away as Matthew stepped into the elevator. He clicked the floor for the art room and the doors slid shut with a ding. It reminded me of the elevator ride this morning; it seemed so long ago.

The door slid open and we stepped off, slowly making our way to the art room. When we reached it Matthew let go of my sleeve, making his way –not to the closet where we had found the other paintings, but behind a poster no one would ever notice. Behind it there was a folder that flopped down, no longer propped against the wall.

Matthew set the folder down on one of the art tables then progressed to the corner of the art room, where he pulled up a floor tile, extracting another folder from the hiding place.

He moved all around the room pulling out paintings and folders from places I would never have guessed to exist, till there was a large pile on the table and he made his way to the closet, coming back with the paintings Ivan had found.

"I paint the colour red." He said, and stared at the pile. "I paint because it needs to be said. This story, Alfred's story."

He looked at me from across the room, his wide eyes trailing down my body before he picked up one of the folders.

"I don't always paint the colour red." He whispered, and then handed the folder to me. I looked at him carefully. Asking him with my eyes if it was really okay to do.

When he nodded, I carefully opened the flap and extracted about fifteen black pages, covered in white paint.

Matthew's hands shook as I slowly looked over the image that was painted on the first of the black pages. The first was of Katyusha; her smooth features were enhanced in the image, making her look angelic. The way the white paint stood out against the black paper was so different from the way Matthew's other paintings looked, those looked incriminating and raw. These were beautifully painted and time was taken to capture all the good aspects of these people.

I flipped through the white painted pages, there are multiple of Katyusha, Feilks and Elizabeta, and surprisingly enough, there were a few of Alfred. His face was full and eyes bright. Not with insanity as what was depicted in the red paintings, the young Alfred's eyes were filled with the mirth of youth. There was a smile on his face that I could hardly imagine on Alfred.

This is what Matthew remembered Alfred as; this is the image he tried to hold onto when faced with the insanity Alfred grew into. This must have been what Alfred was like as a child.

"He used to visit me." Matthew whispered, and curled a hand around my arm. "He would visit me every week in here since the time when I was put in, till he went to medical school. But then he would visit me on his breaks. Katyusha came when he was in medical school and he didn't like when she visited me. He had been getting worse." His voice cracked and he hung his head.

"He was just getting so bad Gilbert, I didn't see what to do."

He flipped the next page in my hands and my breath caught. It was a picture of me. My hair stood out on the page and the lines of my face were drawn with detail and care. Matthew stroked a finger down the side of my face in the painting and rested his head on my shoulder.

"He got so much worse after you came though. More horrible than ever before, but he couldn't control himself." He whimpered and shook his head against my arm.

"It isn't his fault, Dad was just the same. He saw what Dad was doing and it scared him so bad. He was so scared Gilbert! He didn't know what to do."

Matthew took in a deep breath, held it; and let it out again, straightening his back.

"He shot Dad. He killed him in the red room. We were ten. I remember it so clearly, but not. I remember not understanding, I couldn't understand anything!"

Hot tears fell onto my shirt as Matthew looked at the painting. The snapshot of when Alfred was happy.

"Matthew." I whispered and he shook his head.

"I started speaking sentences when I was fifteen. I had already been here for five years. Mom didn't let anyone test on me, she only paid for my speech therapy and lessons. She paid the hospital to not let me out. I was only sentenced to mental therapy for five years because I was a child, and I didn't understand what I-Alfred had done.

I was the second most extreme case of neglect in history, and the first was mentally retarded. She was moved from foster home to foster home after being tested on, and was abused. She is now in a mental hospital somewhere, no one knows." Matthew started shaking.

"They called her Genie the Wild Child." He whispered.

"Alfred told me about her. Alfred said we should be grateful to Mom for keeping it quiet but I wanted to go outside." He whined. "I want to know what grass feels like. I want to know what snow feels like. What it is to be cold." He shivered against me.

"When I was entered my leg was infected. He cut me too deep and Alfred didn't clean it." He brought his hand down from my arm and touched his amputated leg.

"They had to take my leg, I wouldn't be able to walk normally again."

"How did you learn to walk?" I whispered, and he choked out a laugh.

"Alfred taught me, when Dad went out. He would teach me words, and how to walk." He was trying to save me the whole time, but he couldn't tell anyone. Dad wouldn't let him."

"You were a light" he said, after a pause.

"I was having nightmares about-" he sucked in a breath "about him…cutting me." He finally exhaled out the words and I watched him in horror. He was pouring out every secret he had and there was no stopping him. I had never felt so close to him before. I had never felt so connected.

"But every time you came back I knew you would bring something to piece me back together." He sniffed. "You brought new words, Francis and Arthur, the prosthetic leg, snow." He laughed shakily.

"I have had measurements taken for a prosthetic leg. I am going to walk." He smiled and, the tears stuck to his long, light, eyelashes prettily.

"They can't keep me in here anymore." Matthew whispered. "My mom is going to come out. She is going to let me go."

"Matthew!" I whispered and grabbed his hands. "When did this happen? When did you find out?"

"Yesterday, after you left. When I woke up, I called her. It was the first time I have talked to her and I asked her if I could leave." He hesitated. "She sounded bad, really broken. She kept coughing into the phone." He shuddered lightly and smiled again. "She had someone bring in the papers after an hour and Katyusha signed my release forms.

I want you to be there for my first steps." He choked out. "I get my prosthetic leg in a week." He whispered gripping my hand.

I spent every minute I could with Matthew. The hospital was in a bit of a madhouse (excuse the pun) after Alfred was admitted. He was being held there till they found a more suitable than a home for the criminally insane.

Matthew was incredibly smart, something I learned when I went to his lessons with the prosthetic leg. Over this passing week, I learned so much more about him and how much he was holding back for fear of Alfred doing something that would harm someone.

He was much happier too. I would see him lost in thought sometimes, a small smile on his lips. It was different than the look he would get when he was staring ahead, before it was like he was lost a million miles away, caught in place he didn't want to be.

I figured it was the mentality he had. He was free now; he had never been free in his life, ever. I didn't know what that could possibly be like, to always know that he was trapped in a place he couldn't get out of. I wondered if he knew that his freedom had been a phone call away.

It had been so simple.

But it had him walking.

The first steps had been incredible, he had gripped my hand so tightly I could feel his fingers stopping the blood from reaching my hand but I didn't care. He was shaking and his breathing was rapid, I could see the fear and excitement in his eyes as he stood in the fake limb.

He had learned to stand; he had walked with the help of a bar, and with the help of someone's hand (usually mine), now he let go of my hand leaving mine empty and outstretched towards him as he took the first step.

Tears sprouted from my eyes as he wobbled unsteadily then took another step. He looked back at me with the widest smile I had ever seen on his face which quickly disappeared when he saw my face.

"Gilbert?" He whispered and moved to turn around but wobbled a little too much. I leapt forward and we both tumbled to the ground, him on top of me.

Before I could even acknowledge how cliché it was his worried purple eyes searched mine worriedly.

"You are crying!" He exclaimed, and brought his hands to my face. He didn't even realise how close we were.

"I am crying because I am happy!" I laughed and his eyes widened then filled with tears also. "I am happy too!" He proclaimed and placed a kiss on my mouth. He pulled back before I could blink and stared at me.

"I kissed you." He whispered and a smile lit up his face again. I was breathless and so happy I was sure my heart would beat out of my chest. I leaned up and kissed him sloppily, our smiles making it awkward.

Our tears had mixed together on our cheeks and I pulled him from the ground, he didn't even shake as he stood on the prosthetic leg.

He pulled me forward into a strong hug, the most contact he had even given me, burying his hands into my hair.

"Watch me." He whispered then extracted himself from my arms, turning around and walking shakily to the other end of the room, turning around and making his way back with even more precision.

He squeaked with excitement, his eyes never leaving mine till he stood less than a foot away from me.

"I love you Gilbert." He whispered and kissed me tentatively.

I couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the night.

Ludwig was very worried.

Matthew was nearly hopping with excitement; he had become proficient in the usage of his new leg and was walking around the hospital excitedly. Today was the first day he was going to be allowed outside. Sure it was only the back of the hospital where the other patients were allowed to go, but soon, little by little, he was going to be able to function in the outside world.

He gripped my hand in one of his and threw the other around my shoulders, holding me tightly against him. He was trembling, and he knew I could feel it. He had become more comfortable with me in a few days than I would have even believed.

He confessed he learned what kissing meant and how to do it by watching Disney movies, I laughed until his face couldn't get any more red and he started hitting me with the white polar bear I had given him.

He named him Kumajirou, but forgot it the next minute, calling it an array of different names, all starting with Kuma strangely enough.

Matthew and I walked to the door that led to the backyard, his breath hitching faster with every step closer.

"Gilbert." He whispered uncertainly, and I looked at him raising my eyebrows. "What if it isn't what I expected? What if its awful and and-." I cut him off by putting a finger on his lips. (No I didn't blush over how cliché I was being, who told you that?)

"I doubt it will be what you expected." I reasoned and his eyes widened in fear. "But!" I said stopping him from freaking out and retreating. "I think it will be better than you could have ever imagined." I whispered in his ear and he shuddered, his eyes lighting up in joy.

He glanced at the door, watching the outside world with wide purple eyes. He pulled away from me towards the door but kept his hand in mine. He almost never let go of my hand when we were together; it was something that was comforting to him.

I was sad to have to remind him that I wasn't going to leave him every time I had to leave and do my work in the hospital. He would freak out and start crying, dragging me back to him and holding me hostage under the bright lights of his room.

Not that I wanted to leave of course. I never wanted to leave him alone; the handholding was as comforting to me as it was to him. I loved him so much.

I opened the door for him and he winced, bringing an arm up to shield his eyes from the light. This is probably the first time he had been under the direct sunlight in years. He had told me that when he was arrested for the murder of his father he was so injured that he had to be loaded into an ambulance and brought directly to a hospital. He had slipped in and out of a coma and was asleep through the trial, which had been kept under wraps and hurried by his celebrity mother.

When he woke up he was brought to the mental hospital immediately, and put under sedation during the entire process.

I cried with him during the entire story, even thinking about it now made my heart sink. Matthew had been though hell and back, and now he was dragging me outside the door, a wide smile brightening his features.

He stopped his incessant tugging once we were both outside; there was a small amount of shaded pavement that separated the door and the green grass. The sun shone brightly and Matthew stared, dumbstruck at the scene.

Picnic tables were scattered randomly around the small yard and flowers lined the high fence that enclosed it, and that was it. There was nothing that special that would make take Matthew's breath away and leave him gaping, but there he was, his mouth hanging open slightly, the haunted his eyes he used to have were so long gone I could barely imagine them on him.

He stepped forward into the lush green grass, which was still a little bit wet from the sprinkler system and wriggled his toes around, feeling the blades underneath his feet.

He dropped to his knees suddenly, letting go of my hand and I jumped in surprise the action was so sudden. Loud sobs were wracked from his body as he let himself fall into the grass, the green mingling with his blonde hair, shining in the sunlight.

He trembled and shook, gripping the grass and crying, completely enraptured by the earth as he experienced it for the first time. He dug his fingers into the soil and watched as they came back brown and covered in wet dirt and he showed me like a child, tears still glistening on his cheeks.

He crawled around on his knees, sometimes letting himself lay down on the grass and sighing contentedly before I joined him.

"Is it what you expected?" I whispered to him in a light tone and his purple eyes flashed back to mine. He extracted his hand from the earth and twined his dirty hand with mine.

"I am so happy." He whispered back, not really answering my question, but answering it at the same time. He squeezed my hand in his and sighed again, letting his eyes close.

He fell asleep there, the wind rustling his hair, that glimmered like gold in the sunlight, the brightness of the outside making his scars near invisible, the grass swaying around him and tickling his face making his nose twitch.

Later we found Matthew covered in red rash, he was allergic to the grass. He started crying and I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. He hit me with Kumajirou. Again.

I drove quietly through the streets, watching as different houses flashed by. Matthew was silent too. It had been a month since he had first stepped outside, and now he was in my car, a somber and scared look displaying on his face.

"It's going to be okay" I whispered and he squeezed my hand. I slowed to a stop in front of a house I had only seen in pictures. Matthew sucked in a breath, his violet eyes racking over the exterior almost hungrily.

Matthew had been in therapy for a long time, but I doubted his being ready for this. I was scared out of my mind, for Matthew that was, but he insisted.

We got out of the car without another word, and I raced around the car to grab hold of his hand again, which had started shaking.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked in a quiet voice, and he nodded jerkily.

"I have to do this." He said in return, the steel in his voice surprising me. I was constantly being surprised of how strong Matthew was now. Every day reminded me of how much I loved him.

But I still hadn't told him that. He seemed to notice it too.

He took a shaky breath and pulled me towards the door, walking up the door on the porch and taking an old key from his jeans pocket.

Introducing Matthew to normal clothing was interesting to say the least; he liked jeans and hoodies where I liked the much…tighter clothing. Elizabeta hit me with Kumajirou while Matthew looked clueless.

He carefully slid the key into the lock, sucking in a breath when it unlocked the door.

It swung open with a creak as Matthew pushed against it lightly, showing us a view of the front room. It was empty, and on the floor there was a thin layer of dust. My Birdie sneezed adorably.

We stepped into the house, disturbing the dust as each step creaked on the wood floor.

"I never got to see what it was like up here." Matthew said, his voice was loud in the quiet atmosphere.

"I spent all my time down there." He pointed towards a door, which surely led to the basement. "Alfred and Dad lived up here."

"The kitchen should be around that corner." He pointed to a wall that probably used to be white, now it was a dull grey. "I used to hear them fighting, or eating, or just him talking to himself." He sucked in a breath and moved forward, his hand falling away from mine.

He stretched his hand out and grasped the door to the basement, simply resting his hand on the handle.

"When the police came, they carried me out. I have never seen the stairs or used them. But I knew who was coming when they came down the stairs. Alfred was lighter than Dad. I came out for Alfred, when Dad came I knew what was going to happen. I just didn't understand why."

He tugged the door open and took the first step down the stairs. I saw him shudder at the creaking sound it made.

"I sound like he did." Matthew whispered in horror then turned and raced back to the top of the stairs, throwing his arms around me and burying his face in my shoulder. He shook hard, and I saw the terror in his eyes. To him, every time he heard that sound, it meant that he was going to be hurt. I would never have set foot in this place.

He was going back to the place where he was tortured.

"I need to do this." He whispered, more to himself than to me, then kissed me lightly. His kisses were always light.

He took my hand again and took the first step again. He couldn't contain his shudder at the sound and squeezed my hand tightly.

We worked our way down the stairs, and had to go back up a couple of times. He was breathing deeply, and I knew how close to a panic attack he was. I was rightly worried before. Now I was terrified for him. I wanted him out of this house, out of the nightmare had had to live in for his entire childhood but I knew how much this would help him too.

We stopped at the base of the stairs, his entire body shaking. He slowly raised a finger, pointing to a large bloodstain on the floor, in front of a small black door with a golden handle.

"That was where Alfred shot him." He whispered, and I knew he was reliving the memory with every step he took.

He moved forward, towards the door, and I noticed the many hooks that adorned the walls, that once held shelves.

"What did he have on those shelves Matthew?" I asked, and he jumped his eyes that were previously trained on the black door swung around the room, looking at the hooks.

"Shelves." He whispered in remembrance than shuddered. "He kept his tools there." He said, grasping at his arm and tracing a few of his scars. Oh, his tools. The knives and whips and horrible things he used, to make Matthew's life hell.

Tools.

I pulled Matthew in for a hug, for both of us. It was so hard for me to see this, I never wanted to see Matthew in this much pain, knowing the full extent of what had happened was torture. He had told me on the picnic tables behind the hospital. Both he and I had cried and he told me he loved me again.

I held him that night, through the nightmares that came from recalling the memories. I held him all night long.

He pulled away from me and looked at the door.

"Can you open it?" He whispered and I nodded, reaching for the gold handle. The door opened with a creak just like the front door had and Matthew let out a strangled yelp before collapsing, almost hitting the floor before I caught him.

His eyes stayed wide open, staring at the inside of the room in complete horror. The room was hardly large enough for one person to fit comfortably inside; it looked big enough for a child.

The floor was concrete, just like the rest of the basement. But this time the floor was covered in bloodstains, ranging from light brown to a dark almost red. It covered most of the floor, sometimes spotted in the corners. The walls were covered as well, but not in splatters.

The walls were covered in bloody handprints of all different sizes. I felt the need to puke, immense sadness, and horror wash over me. I could only imagine what it was doing to Matthew.

He shook so hard it was difficult to hold him and his mouth was open in a silent scream, he pulled away from me shakily and stood, using my shoulder as support. He stepped into the room, his eyes taking every single image to present from the room.

He stopped in the middle, then placed a hand on the wall, right over a small, dark handprint.

"It was always dark." He whispered then clenched his hand into a fist on the wall. "The first time I saw light I was in so much pain I couldn't stand it, and I had just watched Alfred kill my dad. I was so pale the ambulance attendants thought I was already dead. Women cried when they saw my marks." He sucked in a breath.

"I was naked and you could see I was starved. I remember running my fingers over my ribs. They had to be re-broken and aligned because they healed while broken." He ran a hand over his ribs, as if remembering doing it as a child. He was lost in the moment.

"I was so afraid of the dark afterward. I thought every time the lights turned off he would come get me and take me back to this room."

He pointed to the left corner, the last place you would look if you opened the door. "I slept there." The blood there was darker.

"Alfred was the one who cleaned up my waste and took care of my injuries. He didn't bandage them but he always cleaned them well."

He walked back out of the room and up the stairs, leaving me watching him, feeling slightly hollow. When I got back upstairs he was waiting for me outside of the house, key in hand.

"Hey Matthew-" I stepped out of the house and he threw his arms around me, kissing me harder than ever before. I was surprised but I kissed back, relishing in the desperation of Matthew's kiss. He broke the kiss and stared up at me, his purple eyes sparked a little for the first time since he told me he wanted to visit his old home and he smiled a little.

"I love you Gilbert." He whispered and rested his head on my shoulder.

Matthew and I stood together hand in hand. Matthew's hair had gotten slightly longer, just a few centimetres, but I noticed the difference. Matthew was fully out of the hospital and was now living with me, and I had never been happier. It was hard to think about life without Matthew and he was adapting to life more rapidly than I had expected.

When I said living with me, I didn't mean living with Ludwig, Feliciano, and myself. Feliciano had moved in with Ludwig at some point when I was sleeping at the hospital to be closer to Matthew.

It has been a year since Matthew visited his old home, and a lot has changed. I bought an apartment on my salary at the hospital. Matthew was experiencing new things every day and I fell more in love with him again each time. His reaction to the escalator was one of the most adorable things I had ever seen. He had jumped off his feet and clung to me the entire way up, looking down at the bottom of the escalator in complete disbelief.

I was happy to know that Gilbird thought Matthew was as adorable as I did, despite Matthew flipping out and running out of the room when he tried to nest in his blonde hair.

After that they got along swimmingly. Well, Gilbird was happy, Matthew was a bit edgy around him.

Matthew looked at Gilbert with a mix of terror and complete excitement then back to the ice rink in front of him.

"You're kidding." Matthew whispered, dragging his eyes away from the skating individuals.

"There is no way I can do this!" He looked down at his prosthetic leg and back to me in desperation. "I can't." He whispered.

"Matthew." I sighed and he looked at his feet. "Matthew!" I tugged his chin up to look at me. "We can do it!" I whispered to him and his eyes sparkled with hope.

I tugged him forward and he laughed, letting me guide him. We raced around the rink, to a small table on the other side of where we were standing before. There sat a box, wrapped in white paper with a black ribbon. Matthew looked at me in confusion.

"Gilbert?" He asked, "What is that?" He stepped forward and touched the box tentatively. He had a long sleeved red hoodie on that looked adorably big on him, it made me want to hug him constantly, and I did. Quite a lot.

"That is a present Birdie." I said, and he blinked in surprise.

"I mean…why? Why is that there?" He touched the black ribbon, smiling a little. "Did you get this for me?" He asked a little more quietly. The thing about Matthew was that he was one of the quietest people I had ever met, but he could be so incredibly loud.

His whispers were loud, his kisses were loud, his glances were loud, his touches were screaming.

"I did." I said and watched as his eyes widened and he turned towards the wrapped box.

"Can I open it?" He asked and watched me nod before pulling carefully on the strings of the black bow.

After a few minutes he had the box unwrapped and open but he had yet to look inside. I was nearly bursting with excitement.

"Come on Matthew, look in the box." I urged and he looked at me worriedly before peering inside the box. He squealed in a way no man should ever squeal (but was so damn cute for him) and spun to me, throwing his arms around me and kissing me soundly on the lips, moving his mouth against mine deliciously.

"Thank you." He murmured against my lips leaning forward so his forehead touched mine. He opened his eyes and looked into mine with sentimental happiness and joy.

"I love you Gilbert." He whispered before stepping away and pulling out the skate that would fit perfectly with his prosthetic leg and one that would fit on his other foot (surprisingly enough Matthew had enormous feet.)

I pulled out my old skates and showed them to him and he flashed me a huge smile.

"I'll help you put them on." I said and he nodded, sitting down at the bench, his eyes flashing dangerously like tears.

I knelt down trying not to think of the implications of this position before pressing the buttons the released the foot part of his leg. I carefully took hold of the skate, fitting it around the leg and listening to the click that alerted me it was locked into place. The skate was already tied so I left it alone.

I pulled off Matthew's shoe and unlaced the skate, pulling open the flap and sliding it around Matthew's other foot.

"Does that feel okay?" I asked, looking up, startled to see Matthew had wet tears streaming down his face.

"Are you okay?" I asked and Matthew nodded, he shut his eyes tightly and nodded again, taking deep breaths.

I pulled the flap back around his foot and tied the complex laces, making sure they were tight around his foot.

"Thanks." Matthew breathed, his eyes still closed. I sat next to him, making sure part of my body pressed against him so he knew I was there. He didn't like it when he didn't know where I was and I was in the habit now of making sure he knew.

I pulled on my skates quickly and got to my feet a little shakily. Matthew got to his feet with less trouble miraculously, I figured it was because of the training he had with his prosthetic leg.

He smiled at me widely, his cheeks were still wet and I could see his eyes were still glimmering slightly.

"Are you ready to live your dream Matthew?" I said quietly and he burst into tears again, nodding as he covered his face. His hands shook but I knew it wasn't from fear.

I stepped onto the ice first, gliding and wobbling before regaining my balance. Matthew laughed at me and I glowered at him.

I grabbed Matthew's hand as he got close to the edge then stepped onto the ice, drawing in a breath of astonishment as he was fully on the ice. He stared wide-eyed at his feet as he slid forwards a bit.

Matthew held back a sob as I skated forward, dragging him along with me as we held hands. People skated around us sometimes with their own partners, or by themselves. Each person had a different skill level and they didn't judge the abilities of others.

Some smiled in remembrance when they saw someone fall and some outright laughed, but it wasn't malicious, because everyone had done it before.

Matthew watched everyone, he was hyperaware of other people and didn't go out much, but he loved to watch people and how they interacted. At first I was scared that he would find someone else that would catch his interest, but he would tell me he loved me every chance he got. He never said it to anyone else and it made my heart warm to think about.

We skated round and round in circles, Matthew never once letting go of my hand. He became increasingly confident in his skills and only fell a few times, taking me down with him. We laughed and others laughed mainly because of the memories of when he first kissed me. The first time he walked without help.

I let go of Matthews hand near the end of the night and he gasped, stopping on the ice immediately with his hand on the wall.

I skated away from him a little bit and he looked lost and scared before I turned back to him.

"Skate to me Matthew." I called and he shook his head quickly.

"Come on! You can do it! Just like before, one step at a time!" Matthew looked me straight in the eye and I nodded encouragingly, reaching out my hands to him.

He looked down at the ice then pushed himself away from the wall. He moved slowly then shifted, letting one leg push down on the ice and guiding himself forward. He shifted again then looked up at me, smiling. He held out his hands as he reached me and I laced my fingers between his.

"I am so proud of you." I whispered to him in his ear and he giggled.

"I love you Gilbert."

Matthew and I stood in our backyard; he took a deep breath before throwing the last painting into the pile of paintings sitting in our fire pit.

He broke into a smile as he looked at the pile then looked at me, and I stepped towards him, wrapping him in my arms.

"Do you want to do it?" I asked, and he nodded enthusiastically. I took a box of matches out of my pocket and struck one alight for him, before handing him the match carefully.

Matthew's hand found mine and he watched the flame dance for a second before he threw the match into the pile. As soon as the small flame met the flammable paint it flickered and grew, spreading over the paintings rapidly. Matthew watched the flames and I watched the flames reflected in Matthew's wide eyes.

"It's over." Matthew said, tears glistening in his eyes. "It's all over now." He turned around in my arms and looked at me. He looked so beautiful tonight, the sunlight reflecting off of his hair was beautiful but seeing Matthew in the moonlight was something different; special.

I had helped Matthew ease off his fear of the night a few months after we bought our first house together. He noticed, I noticed, everyone we knew noticed that we belonged together. I had taken every step with him, we went on dates, the ice rink could probably count as out first, we kissed, and he told me he loved me every day but I couldn't find the right moment to tell him the same words.

They were always on the tip of my tongue, they were in everything I did and Matthew knew that, but it was frustrating when he could say it so easily and after so many years of us being together I still couldn't say it.

But now was the moment. Matthew looked up at me with the moonlight in his eyes and the fire dancing behind him. We were celebrating his moving on from everything in the past. It was our anniversary of his release from the hospital.

Matthew hugged me close to him and I traced a scar on his hand. He was okay with me touching his scars; he loved it when I held him as we were doing now.

He opened his mouth, to say the words I knew we was going to say but I stopped him with a kiss. He closed his eyes and kissed back with passion, as much as when we had left his home and the life he had lived there so many years back.

I pulled away and he looked at me questioningly, tracing down my face with his fingertips. I loved it when he did that; it reminded me of when we were back in the hospital.

"Matthew." I said quietly, and his eyes widened, the purple irises looked so beautiful I could just live looking into them without another care in the world.

"Matthew, you say this to me every chance you get." I breathed, and his hands clenched in my shirt. I carefully removed his hands from my shirt, kneeling down in front of him on one knee.

"You are a light in my life and a guide to the darkness in the world. Ever since you came into my life there has been nothing but joy and happiness. I have never felt so loved." Matthew's eyes filled with tears and he brought his hands to his lips covering them in shock.

"I have never said these words no matter how hard I have tried and I am so sorry that you had to wait this long to hear them but Matthew I love you too much to put into words, but I will try to prove it to you through actions for the rest of my life if you will let me."

I took a deep breath and brought out a sleek gold band, small diamonds were embedded into the gold that glimmered in the moonlight and Matthew gaped in astonishment.

"Matthew will you marry me?"

"Even In Death" By Evanescence

Give me a reason to believe that you're gone  
I see your shadow so I know they're all wrong  
Moonlight on the soft brown earth  
It leads me to where you lay  
They took you away from me but now I'm taking you home  
I will stay forever here with you  
My love  
The softly spoken words you gave me  
Even in death our love goes on  
Some say I'm crazy for my love, Oh my love  
But no bonds can hold me from your side, Oh my love  
They don't know you can't leave me  
They don't hear you singing to me  
And I can't love you, anymore than I do  
And I can't love you, anymore than I do


	12. Hey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say.

Hey there, I know you weren't expecting an update from this story ever again as I have officially proclaimed it finished, but there is something I want to share, and as this story has the most viewers I wanted as many people as possible to read it.

We live in a shitty world full of people who will put you down and make you feel like you aren't worth anything. Some of you may have stopped reading already thinking this doesn't apply to you. Maybe you aren't someone who is depressed, has socially anxiety, is suicidal, has trouble at home, has trouble at work, has trouble with life, but let me tell you there will come a time when you will feel your absolute worst, and that is the time when you need to think of chapter twenty seven of He Paints The Color Red, the unexpected chapter where Serenity Ma Sogni tells you that you are worth it.

Every single person who reads this is worth it, every person who doesn't read it is worth it. Atheist, Catholic, Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Gay, Straight, Bi, A-sexual, Republican, Democrat, American, Canadian, German, Japanese- I mean holy hell there are a lot of different, special, amazing people out there and you are listening to the ones that tell you that you are not worth it?

I am reaching out to those who think they have no other options in life, and that there is no way out. Darkness is out there, undoubtedly, most of you have already felt it, it is infectious and torturous and sometimes it feels like you cannot escape it but you can because there is light somewhere if you try to find it, and it will seem like you are drowning and scared and no one is there to help you but there is always help out there.

If you have social anxiety, the first step to getting better is making one friend, then making two, then three, and it is hard, I know, I have it, it feels like someone is repeatedly stabbing you when you are talking to people but there are ways for it to get better.

Those of you with depression, I have been there. It is an awful, sick feeling with nothing but despair and a dank darkness to revel in because darkness is safe and darkness is somewhere so hard to get out of, but if you think of the world, and how much it has to offer maybe your darkness will get a little lighter. There are 7 billion people on this earth and not one of them deserves to feel worthless, or frightened, repressed, and tortured because of who they are and who they were born to be.

People wont accept who you are. Your parents might not accept who you are. Your friends might not accept who you are, but you have to know that their views are narrow, they might never be able to love you to the full extent or even at all but that does not mean you are unlovable, it means they couldn't love enough. Out of these 7 billion people there has to be at least one that loves you. And you found at least one already, I promise, you are reading her words right now.

Suicide is something I have never considered, but I know how fucking hard it is to see point in life at all. There are people working day and night to help keep people alive and all you have to do is call them to see that they care. People care, and are willing to help. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

If you ever feel like you are alone or trapped in the world, depressed, lonely or just want to talk a little, please PM, email me, contact me in any way. I will always respond in any way I can because there is always another chance for you to be happy and there is always love for you if you know where to look.

Love,

Serenity

Here are some self help websites and hotlines:

2011/12/11/30-things-to-stop-doing-to-yourself/

. /PDF/Self-harm%20Distractions%20and%20Alternatives %

Depression Hotline: 1-630-482-9696

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-784-8433

LifeLine: 1-800-273-8255

Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386

Sexuality Support: 1-800-246-7743

Eating Disorders Hotline: 1-847-831-3438

Rape and Sexual Assault: 1-800-656-4673

Grief Support: 1-650-321-5272

Runaway: 1-800-843-5200, 1-800-843-5678, 1-800-621-4000

Exhale: After Abortion Hotline/Pro-Voice: 1-866-4394253

Child Abuse: 1-800-422-4453**

UK Helplines:Samaritans (for any problem): 08457909090 e-mail jo

Childline (for anyone under 18 with any problem): 08001111

Mind infoline (mental health information): 0300 123 3393 e-mail: info .uk

Mind legal advice (for people who need mental-health related legal advice):0300 466 6463 legal .uk

b-eat eating disorder support: 0845 634 14 14 (only open Mon-Fri 10.30am-8.30pm and Saturday 1pm-4.30pm) e-mail: help .uk

b-eat youthline (for under 25's with eating disorders): 08456347650 (open Mon-Fri 4.30pm - 8.30pm, Saturday 1pm-4.30pm)

Cruse Bereavement Care: 08444779400 e-mail: helpline .uk

Frank (information and advice on drugs): 0800776600

Drinkline: 0800 9178282

Rape Crisis England Wales: 0808 802 9999 1(open 2 - 2.30pm 7 - 9.30pm) e-mail info .uk

Rape Crisis Scotland: 08088 01 03 02 every day, 6pm to midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I would really love it if you enjoyed reading, you could favourite this story on fanfiction.net, it would mean a lot to me. -Serena 
> 
> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8962267/1/He-Paints-the-Color-Red


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